


The Way Things Weren’t

by Ephy



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3882031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephy/pseuds/Ephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a different world, Babs would have been home that day, opened the door herself and been shot in the spine. As things are, she has to make things right, be more than Batgirl, to be Oracle.<br/>In a different world, one where Jim Gordon would still be commissioner, maybe Gotham underground would have only one boss, one the Red Hood could have taken down easily. As things are, Jason has to take his time, adapt his strategy, and maybe invest himself a bit more than planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because, yes, I do write het sometimes.  
> (Actually, I had so much fun writing the banter between Jason and Barbara in "Like a Fairy Tale" that I decided to go for this)  
> Many thanks to Nusuth for the whole plot XD  
> Timeline: this is an alternate "Under the Hood". War Games didn't happen (because this is a UA and I said so :p)

_\- Two years ago_

The rain was pouring on the window, almost covering the monitoring machines’ regular _beeps_. Maybe it was for the best, because even though the artificial noises meant that the body lying on the white bed was stable, they were also a reminder that he needed them to stay alive.

Barbara shuddered, wrapping her hands around her plastic cup. The coffee had gone cold, but she didn’t feel the courage to walk up the corridor to buy herself another one. The very idea of leaving this room felt wrong. She would have to, eventually. But not now. Not yet.

A nurse entered the room. Without a word, she checked the various monitors, adjusted a drip, then left. They had stopped trying to convince Barbara to go home or even sleep. She hadn’t had to say anything. She strongly suspected that Bullock had used the magical words – “ _they were fucked up by the Joker_ ” – and people had stopped asking questions.

Barbara blinked. Her eyes ought to have been dry at this point, but they regularly started filling with tears all over again. This was her fault. She should have been there. She was _supposed_ to have been there, at her father’s side; they had planned to spend the afternoon together. But then she had wanted to buy some nail polish – _nail polish_ , how _silly_ , how _stupid_ of her to just… – so she had left.

And now…

She sat on the chair next to the bed and gripped the sheets, not daring to take his hand in hers.

“I’m so, so sorry, Dad,» she whispered. “It should have been _me_.”

#### ***

_\- Present day_

 

Gotham resisted change. No, _resisting_ was too strong of a word – she _stagnated_.

The only driving force to be found around the place was greed. As a consequence, the few times something actually moved in this city, it moved _backwards_. Years of effort could be destroyed in a few weeks by some parasites trying to grab a piece of power.

It was still hard to see how badly things had regressed.

Jason pursed his lips, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide his clenched fists. When he had heard about Commissioner Gordon’s accident and consequent retirement, it had come as a shock. It was right after he had come back to the States; that kind of news didn’t travel very far past the borders. Who cared about some city’s head of police department?

But _Jim Gordon_.

The worst of it being that people _did_ talk about an accident. Fucking euphemism. It sounded like the man – the _monster_ – who did that was some kind of natural force, a punisher sent by God. Something one should _accept_ , like fate. That enraged Jason even more than to see all of Gordon’s work wasted.

Incidentally, this situation demonstrated perfectly how Batman didn’t fill all of the city’s needs. Something else was needed – something more structural, like Jim Gordon, but also something more… _definitive_.

That was Jason’s part.

He turned right, heading back to his lair. He had seen enough for a day, confirmed that Two-Face’s thugs had moved on the crossroads blocks, pushing Maroni further away toward the river. With the underground power heavily fragmented between the Families and numerous supervillains, Jason’s original plan would need some adaptation.

He smirked. Taking down _more_ criminals was definitively something he was up for.

#### ***

Barbara frowned at her screen. New players appeared in Gotham every other day, but most were soon either _disposed of_ or recruited by the competition. Newcomers often couldn’t handle the city’s specificities, especially the one with pointy ears. Since the – the accident – Batman had invested even more time and energy in the Mission.

Totally missing the point, as usual. If Batman’s way _had_ worked, Jim Gordon would not have ended up in a wheelchair.

She sighed, playing the video once again. She had heard about a new player in town a few weeks before but had not paid attention before realizing that she did not, actually, have any visuals on him. One could not be so discreet as to escape Oracle’s grasp for long, especially not an outsider. And yet…

And yet, the video she did find after several hours of research only showed a shadow grabbing some drug dealer by the hair and smashing his head against the asphalt. The guy had ended up at the hospital with a skull fracture and was hanging between life and death. Several others had been shot dead, with witnesses reporting a guy wearing a red hood as the perp.

Barbara tried to zoom on the image but her software, however good, couldn’t magically improve it beyond the camera’s resolution. If this was the same man, he _might_ have been wearing some kind of cowl as she didn’t discern any irregularities in the outline of his head which could be attributed to hair. Or he might be bald.

Frustrated, she checked the feed coming from one specific Arkham cell for the fourth time. The Joker was bound on his chair, his smile unmistakable. This wasn’t a fake.

She quickly closed the window not to have to face him any longer. Already, her jaw was clenched hard enough to hurt. Arkham was way too soft for that monster. _Death_ would be too soft.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Now wasn’t the time to lose her focus.

She didn’t know if this new guy was green enough not to know what a _Red Hood_ meant in Gotham, but if he was, this was going to cause major problems. If the Joker heard about him… It was more than probable that he would want to take a look. At best.

She had to find this Red Hood first. If not to warn him, then at least to take him out herself.

#### ***

Jason dodged the blade and hit the thug hard in the gut. The man bent over, groaning with pain, and met Jason’s knee head on. That was one. The two others hesitated. He smirked underneath his hood. And took his gun out.

“No! Come on, man, we’re leaving, we’re _leaving!_ ”

“Did I ask you to leave?” Jason asked casually.

The one closest to him made a bad decision and tried to run. Jason shot him in the leg. Unfortunately, it was a newbie: he actually _fainted_.

“Seriously?” Jason couldn’t help but to grumble. “Is _this_ the best Black Mask can throw at me?”

The last guy raised his hands, panicking.

“Don’t shoot! Please! I’m not with them. I work for Oracle, I swear!”

Jason blinked. Now, that was a name he’d never heard before. He tilted his head.

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Honest! I’m just in this shit to pass some intel to her, I ain’t no mobster!”

Jason walked toward him. The man kept retreating until he had his back against the wall.

“To me, it looks more like you’re making excuses. _Maybe_ you gave her intel once or twice. But you’re still one of them. You’re still _selling_ aren’t you?”

“No, no!”

“What kind of information were you giving her anyway? A scum like you can’t possibly have anything interesting to say.”

“Yes, I do! There’s a shipment coming in three hours, by the docks! It’s gonna be a big one. Something big enough to change the balance in Gotham city!”

“What kind of shipment?”

“I don’t know, I swear, but it’s big!”

Jason lowered his gun. The man almost crumbled with relief. He didn’t see the punch coming, he just collapsed on the dirty ground. Huh.

Oracle, mh? And he talked about _her_ like Jason was supposed to know who she was. A big player, then? But _which kind_ of player? That dirtbag had assumed Jason was a vigilante – to say the truth, there was no reason for him to think otherwise. Jason hadn’t made enough of a move yet to be classified as either hero or villain. Not that he would fit either label.

Three hours, he’d said? Well. Jason had better find himself a good seat to watch how things would be handled. Depending on how it went, he would be able to classify this _Oracle_. With his luck, she was working with Bruce – though there seemed to be no vigilante in town except for the Bat and the replacement. Even Batgirl didn’t seem to be around anymore. And who would blame Babs, with was happened to her father?

It felt weird, though. That she, of all people, would give in. She wasn’t the sort to let herself be scared away. Jason had checked on her, careful not to be spotted. He was surprised that she had not tried to integrate the GCPD to fill the gap left by her father’s retirement, which would have been a more likely reaction. She was, after all, a genius, and certainly understood that Batman wasn’t the solution on the long term.

But no, she was still working at the library, like before. It had almost hurt to see her walk inside with her bag on her shoulder and her scarf around her neck, as if nothing had changed, as if three years had not passed since the last time Jason had seen her.

He shook his head, climbing the wall to get to the roofs. Babs was part of the life he had _before_. If she had managed to move on, it was all the better. At least, he wouldn’t have to confront her.

It took him two hours to get to the docks and confirm that something was going to happen. The henchmen mostly tried to lay low, with more success than if this had been organized by, let’s say, Two-Face. Black Mask looked like a hell of a player. If the Families had not managed to put their hands back on the GCPD, he might have become enough of a threat to take over most of the city. Unfortunately for him, he had arrived a bit late to the party.

Jason settled down at a vantage point, careful not to use one where someone else might stumble upon him by surprise, let’s say, because gunshots attracted bats like shit attracted flies. And gunshots seemed very plausible considering the information he’d been leaked. If that Oracle girl worked with one of the Families – or one of the freaks, no discrimination here – the situation would become explosive _soon_.

Literally.

So Jason settled, and waited. In times like this, he wished he still smoked. Though obviously, it was a good thing that he’d stopped; regardless of the obvious health issue, smoking was a hell of a way to give up his location. And he would have had to remove his helmet, which was even stupider.

Thankfully, the shipment arrived half an hour _early_. If it had been planned, it was a good move: better get the delivery out of the docks as soon as possible. Jason hadn’t noticed any movement outside of the henchmen, so he guessed Oracle was late. How unprofessional.

If she was that sloppy, maybe he should cut the whole observation-only deal and just go for the prize himself. If it really was a game changer, better not let someone else have it, after all. He could still drop intel on Oracle himself some other time to see how she would react. That would allow him to check if she was always that sloppy – in which case she could be ignored – or if this was a one-time slip.

For today, he had left a few _surprises_ around while checking the perimeter, just in case. If no one intervened in the five next minutes…

At that point, of course, someone started screaming.

Jason fought back the need to go check what happened. Instead, he opened his smartphone to check the cameras he had _also_ left all around the place. He counted on the fact that two teams would be involved: anyone finding a camera would assume it came from the other team. Unfortunately, that meant he hadn’t been able to cover the rooftops properly. Bruce certainly wouldn’t believe that Black Mask was able to guess his most probable hiding spots.

Jason didn’t see anything on the cameras he _did_ place. Which meant the one taking down thugs out there was staying out of reach. Which meant…

Someone fired an automatic gun.

“It’s the Bat!”

Jason carefully retreated from his hideout. They were no match for Bruce, but with the thugs outnumbering him, they might still occupy him long enough for Jason to make this experience profitable. He slid alongside the warehouse, ignoring the gunshots, leaving thugs and bats behind. His objective was the boat.

To get in without being spotted was going to take some _finesse_. But, after all, he had been taught by the best.

He slipped inside, switching the lenses of his helmet to infrared – a feature impossible to integrate into something as light as the batcowl became possible when one wore actual metal around one’s head. Avoiding the panicking henchmen suddenly became much easier.

By luck, the shipment seemed to include several big metal boxes full of stuff. The infrared allowed him to spot a few bombs and umbrellas – wasn’t this shipment for Black Mask? What the hell was he going to do with _that?_ – and a very interesting cyborg shape which Jason immediately recognized. Alright, stay away from that one.

Then, there was the last trunk, which positively _glowed_ with alien radiation.

“Bingo,» Jason whispered.

Now, to drag this out of the boat without being spotted by the Bat. Jason smirked – and pushed on the detonator, activating the explosives he’d placed outside.

#### ***

Barbara chewed her lips while contemplating her green-glowing screen. She spent an awful lot of time in front of a computer, for a librarian. She spent an awful lot of time in front of a computer for a vigilante as well, but then, that’s how she decided to make a real difference. Information was the key.

And she was receiving way too much of it all of a sudden for it to be natural.

“I’m surrounded by geeks,” Dick complained, limping across the room.

“I didn’t ask you to come around,” she protested, her tone gentler than her words. He had spent the morning in a conversation with her dad, managing to stay light instead of awkward. So many people didn’t come anymore because they didn’t know what to say. “What is it with you batboys anyway? You come to Gotham for a week-end and you end up wounded.”

“Bruce was going around _alone_ ,” Dick pointed out. “Tim isn’t as much of a geek as he pretends to be. He would love to help with the fighting. Bruce just wouldn’t let him.”

Barbara frowned, glancing up from her computer.

“I saw them patrol together.”

“Yes, so did I. I thought it was getting better between them. But apparently, it’s only patrol. As soon as there’s something big going on, Bruce makes him stay in the Cave.”

Barbara knew what Dick wanted to hear. Unfortunately, he wasn’t asking the right person.

“Who can blame him, after all what happened?”

Dick straightened like an offended peacock.

“Batman can’t work alone! Tim is right, he needs a Robin.”

“He also needs therapy and when has Bruce ever done what is good for him?”

She could see she was hurting him, but she couldn’t care less. Maybe Dick Grayson’s first priority was to make Bruce happy but, thank God, everyone didn’t have the same case of terminal dedication.

Tim certainly did not. He was a good kid, and a bright one. Barbara was happy to see him listen whenever Bruce preferred to keep him out of harm’s way. So maybe that made Bruce’s life harder – and so what?

She might not be perfectly objective either.

“So what are you working on?” Dick tried, moving away from a sore subject.

“I’m receiving more intel than usual. I’m trying to pinpoint where it comes from, but either someone is very good or I’m delusional.”

Dick grinned.

“I know you have a big brain, but your instincts have always been sharp. If they tell you something is amiss, they’re probably right. What’s your guess?”

Barbara hadn’t even realized she had one before he asked her. But she actually _did_.

“There’s a new player in town,” she said.

Dick sighed.

“When isn’t there?”

“The point is, I haven’t managed to get a good look at him so far.” Now that did catch Dick’s attention. “It’s been a few weeks now. He’s been killing around, but he hasn’t made a clear move just yet.”

“Did you talk about him to Bruce?”

Back to Bruce again. Bruce _wasn’t_ Gotham’s rightful heir, despite what the batboys might think.

“He has enough informants of his own, I’m sure he’s heard about him. I don’t have any relevant data to transfer anyway.”

“You not knowing what he is up to _is_ relevant.”

“You’re going to make me blush.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. Point to the girl team!

“So, new guy, no name, no face, no MO. Are you sure it’s only one guy?”

She almost didn’t feel ashamed not telling him about the very significant piece of costume which made her so sure. She really didn’t want to talk about someone wearing a red hood with Dick.

“I’m sure there is one main player. Maybe I attributed to him a few acts that he didn’t commit himself, but insignificantly so. There’s enough proof to know there is _someone_.”

“And he killed thugs, but he’s sending you information? Do we have a rogue vigilante in town?”

She shrugged.

“No, I feel more like he is… testing me.”

The moment the words rolled on her tongue, she knew they tasted right. Yes, she was being tested. The Red Hood was trying to learn more about her. Maybe to check if she was friend or foe.

Which was disturbing. He certainly didn’t do anything like this with the other players. Not the mob, not the differently-sane criminals, not the bats.

There was something there. She couldn’t fathom what, precisely, but her gut was twisting with the need to communicate something, telling her brain to catch on. Maybe the player wasn’t that new. He was doing too well not to know Gotham – but he didn’t know about her. He didn’t know who she worked with, who she worked _against_.

“Oh I know that face; it’s time for me to leave. I don’t want to get in the way!” Dick laughed, half serious.

“When are you going back to Blüdhaven?” she asked absent-mindedly.

“Tomorrow. I would have stayed longer but with Tim and Bruce still trying to find their rhythm, I don’t want to interfere.”

Because he was afraid to quarrel with Bruce, or because he was afraid to slip too easily into his old role? Barbara wondered. She sure wasn’t going to ask out loud.

“Well, be careful, will you?”

He kissed her forehead.

“Always.”

She snorted.

“As if.”

He left, the sound of his laugh echoing in the stairs. She smiled, remembering times long past. Then she got herself back to work.

So this wannabe Red Hood was trying to play her? He obviously didn’t know who he was up against. At. All.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I like "Under the Red Hood"? Yes, I do :p


	2. Chapter 2

The accident had changed their everyday life. Beyond the obvious – Jim losing his job, Barbara never mentioning she wanted to find an apartment for herself ever again – it had altered so many little things. Their house had had to be adapted. No more steps to access the entrance, new equipment to get to the second floor, more space in the bathroom. She tried hard not to let this bother her, and yet… on the bad days, it felt like the accident had invaded everything.

Her dad, of course, didn’t seem to mind at all. It had been hard at the beginning, still was sometimes, but he accepted his situation with a grace which bewildered her. He went to therapy, made jokes about wheels and didn’t care about the looks of pity people cast him from time to time. Whenever his old colleagues were around, he asked questions about their jobs as if he was still going to the GCPD every day.

He sure still went all around Gotham, every morning, checking on that ex-cop and this ex-con. Barbara often accompanied him on the week-ends and had been astonished to see how many small shops and places had actually _adapted_ their layout so he could visit more easily. He seemed to be a regular of every single city bar without drinking alcohol at all – only the same dark, bitter coffee as always.

“Stop frowning at me,” he said, startling her out of her thoughts.

Most little girls grew up to realize their father wasn’t the hero they had imagined. Barbara never had had to go through that. Who the heck needed to fantasize on Batman? Jim Gordon actually redefined what _being a hero_ meant, every day.

“I was thinking about how much I love you!” she grinned.

“That’s my girl,” he laughed. “So. What’s been bothering you lately?”

Also, he didn’t have a high stress level job to keep his mind occupied anymore.

“Shouldn’t you try to seduce some caring widow instead of asking questions about _my_ love life?” she tried.

“I did hear that Dick was around, but the last time I checked you were in a _let’s be friends_ phase.”

Barbara tried very hard not to pout – or worse, blush. _Especially_ over Dick Grayson. Damnit.

“We _are_ friends!” she protested.

“I’m sure you are, sweetie. So what did you hear?”

He was supposed _not to know_ about Oracle. He certainly didn’t know about _Batgirl_ , thankfully, or he would have torn her head off. But he kept asking questions. She pretended not to understand.

“It’s just some rumors, you know. Little things. Maybe just the balance of power switching again? I mean, Black Mask’s operation was disrupted by Batman last week but it looks like some of the items which came in with the boat are now missing.”

“Thank God I raised a librarian and not a cop,” Jim grumbled, falsely grumpy.

“You asked!”

“Right. Batman was there, you said? And he didn’t realize there was another player around? Mh.”

Putting his finger exactly on the right spot, as usual.

“Batman isn’t infallible.”

Jim rolled over the coffee machine to fill himself a cup.

“No one is, sweetie. But he’s damn hard to fool.”

And he wasn’t the only one. Barbara got up and kissed her dad’s forehead.

“I have some work to do, I’ve been procrastinating. I’ll get back in the world of livings in time for dinner, alright?”

“It’s going to be Thai this time!”

 “From Somwan? I’m sure it’s going to be as delicious as ever.”

She climbed the stairs and went to her room. Then, she grabbed her phone.

#### ***

Jason stared at his cellphone. Which was _ringing_. As if he had left his fucking number lying around. And it wasn’t Talia. ‘Private’, the damn thing stated.

Jason swore under his breath, and picked up.

“Who the hell is this? I’m warning you, if this is for a stupid ad, _I’m not buying_.”

Not the best way to start a conversation but, hey, a man had the right to be a little bit pissed about such an invasion of his privacy.

“Too bad,” answered an artificially distorted voice. “And here I thought I would have something you might be interested in.”

Distorted, but definitively female. And taunting.

“You might want to make it a bit more sensual if you want to raise the stakes. Who did you say you were, already?”

“I did not give any name.”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Are we playing _I’m the most cliché guy around_ or talking business, here?”

“Actually, this is a social call. I wanted to thank you.”

Then, it finally clicked. No criminal would hide his voice to call him, nor would they have gotten their hands on his damn phone number. And this obviously wasn’t Bruce – or he would have quite some explanations to give. It could be only one person.

Oracle. And she was trying to throw him off balance. How _cute_.

“Well, you know. Who wouldn’t put a bat in the mouse’s bag? It does make room when one wants rivals out of the way,” he commented.

“Someone _sane_? Those things carry all kind of nasty diseases, you know.”

Jason had to actually fight back a laugh not to ruin the whole mysterious supercriminal vibe. Who the hell _was_ this girl?

“I’m running around Gotham wearing a _shiny red helmet_. I think we can cross ‘sane’ off the list.”

Now, what was she going to do with _that?_ Though he had left witnesses, he had been careful not to be taken on camera. If she was as well informed as she pretended to be, the hood had to have rung some bells.

“I wondered if you were aware of that.” A moment of silence. “I mean, it’s like you _wanted_ to paint a big target on your skull.”

She was asking _him_ if he was aware of the hood’s meaning. It made sense. After all, he didn’t seem to have any past in the city.

“I thought we’d just crossed that sane thing off?”

“You only _assumed_ we did. But I must admit you’re not helping your case.”

Jason felt himself grin. This was… painfully familiar, actually. It tasted like something from another life.

Freaking hell. He _knew_ who Oracle was – and, really, who did she try to fool? A librarian, _his ass_.

“Don’t worry, I plead guilty.”

“And that’s supposed not to worry me? I happen to live in this city, you know?”

“And you didn’t run away screaming in the first few days, it means you acclimated. Or so they say. I doubt me being here will raise the average level of sanity around all that much.”

“One person can still make a big difference. You don’t sound like someone who is just going to stay around and observe.”

 _Touché_.

“That’s going to make two of us, then,” he retorted. “Though if your point is to ask me not to send you intel anymore…”

“If so, I wouldn’t be thanking you, would I?”

Jason froze, just for a second. He hadn’t expected her to allow him to keep contact. He _killed people_. He had supposed her courtesy was only motivated by the reluctance to make an enemy of him, but that she’d still ask him to stay away from her.

“Always glad to please a lady,” he said, hoping the slight echo caused by his helmet would filter the tension of his voice.

“If you really mean that…”

Jason did laugh, this time.

“I don’t take orders, gorgeous.” But receiving information from her might give him some about Bruce as well. “Now, if we _happen_ to have short-term common goals, you can always give me a call. I might be in a good mood and listen.”

“How magnanimous of you, mighty Red Hood. Does that mean you’re keeping this phone?”

Jason chuckled.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good?”

On that note, he hung up.

That had felt good. _Damnit_. He wasn’t supposed to be in Gotham to mope after the good old times. He was supposed to make things right, and that had always meant a neat break with _before_. With Bruce, obviously, but with everyone else as well.

Jason pursed his lips and dropped the phone in a bin, then walked away.

#### ***

She should have known that this was coming. Gotham city was covered in bat-signals and bat-tags everywhere there wasn’t enough money for a _W_ , so of course Bruce considered it his. He was as bad as the Families.

Actually, he was _worse_. The Families – or criminals, in general – didn’t have her phone number.

“I’m waiting for an explanation,” the hoarse voice said in the com.

“And I’m not going to give you one. I don’t answer to your orders.”

Not anymore, not _ever_. Batgirl had always been an independent agent. Hell, she had created the costume to _piss him off_. Not that he had worked: you couldn’t piss off a stone.

“You are working with a known criminal.”

He was saying that as if it was justification enough. He was _waiting for an answer_. Unfortunately, this ploy only worked when you were on your own right.

Jerk.

She started working on the firewall of one of the dealers she was tracking down for Dinah. She was about to break through when Batman sighed with annoyance.

“ _Oracle_.”

“You’re still there?”

She could _feel_ his annoyance turn to anger. Sometimes, the little things were the most satisfying.

That’s when she heard the window opening.

“I’m trying to _work._ ”

“So am I,” Batman stated, filling the room with his most invasive presence. When one knew he could stand in the shadows without being noticed for several minutes, it was unnerving.

Barbara could have cast him her darkest look, but it wouldn’t work. _Stones_. So instead, she smiled.

“Where is Robin?”

He didn’t wince, but she knew words had hit their target nonetheless.

“At home.”

“On a Saturday evening.”

“I didn’t need him around today.”

 _Or ever_ went unsaid. Robins had never needed Batman’s approval to exist, either, but he could make their lives difficult.

“What do you want, Bruce?”

He glared. Since he was already putting on a show by looming over her, it had barely any effect at all.

“No names.”

“I cross path with your other you so rarely that I had forgotten how your first name sounded.”

“We aren’t here to talk about me.”

Barbara got herself back to work. Criminals really needed a better security on their computers, really, this was getting too easy.

“You aren’t. I can definitively find a few things to tell you on the matter.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Oh so you didn’t manage to crack through the audio this time?” She wasn’t half as satisfied as she ought to be: he hadn’t been supposed to get the signal at all. “It was nothing relevant.”

“But you spoke to him.”

She rolled her eyes. Yes, and it had actually been _fun_. Almost familiar.

“Would you be here if I had not?”

“I don’t let you gather intel so you can share it with criminals.”

It was a good thing that she didn’t keep any firearm around, or she might just have shot him. How _dare he_ think that she would do such things? Or that she would for anything else than trap someone? And even if she had, _he wasn’t the boss of her!_

“Get out.”

“He is dangerous, he…”

“Do you have any relevant information on him that I don’t have? _No_. So get the hell out of my house, Bruce, or I swear to God I’ll make you.”

His gaze locked on her, his presence becoming slightly less overwhelming.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. But someone who managed to evade both of us for so long… Especially using that name.”

“Is he why Robin isn’t with you tonight?” she couldn’t help herself asking.

Bruce’s lips became a thin line. A wave of his cape, and he was gone.

She smirked. Maybe she should stop antagonizing the Batman when he was trying not to act like a jackass, but hey, they had _history_. She might give a call to Tim later on to ask him to join his boss on the roofs though. The kid had to stand up a bit more.

Turning back to her computer, she resumed typing.

#### ***

The new Robin was scarcely on the roofs and Bruce hadn’t had the courtesy to adopt him this time. Which meant Jason still had no idea of his real identity. This was frustrating.

Especially since the little fucker was good at _disappearing_. Jason had tried to tail him three times in the last two weeks and he had not managed to follow him home. One other time he had left with Bruce, in the Batmobile – but even though Jason had watched the manor, he had not been able to see anyone getting out.

 _Frustrating_ didn’t cover it.

His phone buzzed. It was a text. _Already?_ It had only been a week. Babs was _good_. She always had been.

Well the brat didn’t seem to be around tonight. He put his binoculars down to take a closer look. Heh.

“ _Could you not kill? I’m annoying the Bat by not stopping you_.”

He snorted. So Bruce had found out they were in contact, and had tried to bully Babs out of talking to him. Bad idea, Batman, you should know better by now.

“ _Or you could just keep not-stopping me?_ ” he typed quickly, pressing the ‘send’ button before letting himself change his mind.

He _was_ technically admitting murder. But then, he had never intended to deny in the first place.

“ _So you’d win on both points? Killing + Batman annoyed_.”

He shook his head. This had to be a slow night if she actually had the time to chat. To say the truth, it was; he didn’t do ornithology on busy nights.

“ _If I listened, you would be the one owning the win-win_.”

He pictured her smile. Probably harder, now. Life did that to people.

Life _shouldn’t_. What was the point of playing dress-up if they didn’t even keep people safe?

“ _That’s what I do_.”

He missed that damn smile. Which meant, he’d better keep himself busy. He moved from his vantage point to another, following Batman’s itinerary from afar. It was getting late. Usually, Bruce would have been back home by now.

But the definition of _usually_ had changed during Jason’s death.

He kept moving, checking the streets’ mood while going. However, late for Batman meant late for everyone else. Things were quiet.

His phone buzzed again. He tried to ignore it for a whole minute.

“ _You’re not killing someone right now, are you? I would consider it rude._ ”

 _You spend too much time around Alfred_ , he wanted to answer. Yeah, and also give her a heart attack. And, incidentally, mess up his whole plan.

“ _Me, being rude to you? I don’t have a death wish._ ”

Close enough.

Bruce was finally heading home. There would be no birds tonight, not at all. Jason would have spied on Bruce in day-time, but he hadn’t seen him out of the manor except in the Batsuit since he had arrived in Gotham. This was actually a bit creepy. What the fuck was going on?

 _You wouldn’t happen to know what has gotten into the Bat’s head, lately?_ Yeah. That would be entirely unsuspicious. But this was really bothering. With Batman around 24/7, one had to lay even lower not to get seen.

Which was most certainly the point. That kept the power fragmented, though, which made things _worse_. There was no one stopping crazies from doing their things, no centralized power holding bullies back. Drugs were still there, but the quality was low, which meant even more overdoses and diseases.

What the fuck had Bruce done with _their city?_

The phone buzzed.

“ _One might wonder. Red targets and all._ ”

Oh right, he mentioned not having a death wish. How inconsistent of him. The fact was – he truly didn’t have one.

“ _It’s only a target if people manage to hit it_ ,” he pointed out, dancing around the subject.

If she didn’t ask about the helmet, he sure wouldn’t tell. She could keep fishing.

“ _On this note, goodnight. Be nice, don’t kill anyone while I have my beauty sleep._ ”

She had a point. Better get to sleep before bakers started rising. Quiet night rarely followed each other; he would be quite busy tomorrow. His thoughts went back to a stolen metallic trunk. Actually, in a few days or so, _he_ might well be the one making the place interesting.

He typed a last text, then headed home. Or, well, the warehouse where he currently had his bedroll. And hot water. Hot water was _important_.

“ _I make no promises_.”

#### ***

Of course, the Red Hood was still just a criminal. He’d had the courtesy to send Barbara a warning: just a text, with an address. She had localized the phone, same than the previous day, but it had been abandoned in a subway station, stolen and resold in less than one hour.

He didn’t seem to like Batman – but then why would he? – so she didn’t dispatch him. To be fair, she really didn’t want to talk to Bruce anyway. However, he wouldn’t have warned her if it wasn’t something _big_ , so she couldn’t just ask Dinah: Gothamite business was still owned by the Bats.

She kind of _wanted_ to piss off Bruce.

“I really shouldn’t go alone,” Robin was saying in the com’ link.

“You aren’t, duckling. Batman is two blocks away.”

Not that he was _aware_ of anything going wrong. Dinah, on the other hand, was waiting her go on the nearest rooftop. The point was to give the kid an opportunity to do his job while having someone at hand if anything went wrong.

“What do you see, birdie?”

“Don’t talk like you didn’t follow the feed from my mask live.”

The kid had a point. He also wasn’t supposed to know she was able to hack into Batman’s system.

“Stop poking at my servers, kid. You won’t get in.”

“Not without you knowing,” he admitted easily. “And I didn’t. I just assumed.”

She opened her mouth wordlessly. Apparently, the little brat was used to that reaction, because when she didn’t say anything for a few seconds, he elaborated:

“If you have to dispatch people, you need to know exactly where there are. The most efficient way to do this is to have access to their feed. Batman wouldn’t have given you access because he’s like that, but you’re good enough to get it by yourself.”

“Little prick.”

She couldn’t see _him_ since her eyes were on his mask, but she could _hear_ him blush. He chose this moment to enter the warehouse, making himself silent as a shadow. Of course. Cute boy.

He was good at it, too: he blended entirely in the background, soundless, and managed to make his whole _presence_ disappear in a way even Batman never mastered. Then again, this was the boy who had stalked Batman for years without being noticed.

Tim was a brand new kind of Robin. Even more different from Dick than Jason had been – though, strangely, she had less of a hard time accepting him. Then again, Dick had been the one to bring him on. The only one who had a problem with Tim was Bruce.

Every Robin was a new experience, she learnt, though the feeling brought by the costume was still the same. It was incredible, maybe strange, to see how such different personalities managed to exude the same feeling of… hope. Light. Determination. But mostly hope, which was scarce in a place like Gotham.

There were people in the warehouse. Lots of. And from different gangs, too: she could easily differentiate Two-Face’s thugs from Penguin’s, but apparently some of the Families had been invited as well. Black Mask himself was present, having been released two days ago. And, from what Barbara could see, he was fuming.

“This is _my shipment_ ” he was saying. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“It _was_ your shipment,” answered a cultured voice with a touch of Italian accent. “Most of it blew up, from what I was told.”

Robin leant over the pipe he was hiding on to have a better view. Apparently, Black Mask wasn’t the only one willing to attend in person in order to get his hands on whatever this shipment contained. Maroni considered his rival calmly, half a smile on his lips, full of the assurance of one who’d survived Gotham for decades.

“I have a bad feeling,” Robin whispered, and he was right.

What the hell was Red Hood thinking to put all those men at the same place, at the same time? Did he _want_ to cause a gang war?

Huh. Stupid question.

“So,” Maroni kept going. “To whom do we owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

Silence answered.

“I dislike losing my time.”

“No one asked you to be there!” Black Mask rumbled, visible pissed.

This was big. Too big for the little bird.

“I’m dispatching Batman,” Barbara said in the com.

“Hush,” was Robin’s only answer.

They were now circling the metallic box which obviously contained the shipment. Yet no one had walked in to take business over, no one was asking for money. The thugs who weren’t been accompanied by their masters were getting nervous.

Maroni smiled at Black Mask.

“There is no need for tension here. We all work in the same business. Please, do open the box and confirm it indeed contains your… _lost_ shipment. Then, we will talk. Among friends.”

And even more nervous. Black Mask snarled – but nodded at one of his men.

“Open it.”

The man swallowed visibly, even at this distance and through a camera. Then he approached the crate while everyone else moved back. Anything left lying around like this in a city like Gotham might explode upon opening.

It didn’t. It wasn’t even closed. But whatever the shipment had been, it wasn’t in it: instead, the heads of several lieutenants were rolling at its bottom, mouths opened in horror.

“ _For fuck’s sake!_ ” Black Mask swore, going from pissed to furious. “I’m going to _get him and strangle him with his own bowels!_ ”

Maroni himself was pursing his lips, as if disappointed. Three of the heads were from people of his family. That included all of his lieutenants who didn’t follow him today – the number of such men was growing thin.

“Black Mask,” the Italian mobster said in a quiet, dangerous voice. “Please come and have lunch. We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Jason is much more screwed up in the comics. I should prolly aim for more serious, but... no, in fact :p


	3. Chapter 3

Jason wasn’t exactly waiting for a call, but he kept his phone close all the same. He knew Babs well, and she could only be pissed at what he’d pulled off the previous day.

The call came in the evening, when he had stopped lingering and started patrolling around. He considered not taking it but – no. Babs would get _mean_ if he didn’t. He might not want her as an ally anymore, he still didn’t want to be on her shit list. Call that survival instinct.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

“ _What the hell are you thinking?_ ”

He winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. Thankfully, she didn’t keep screaming. He put the phone back to its place and stabilized on the fire escape he was climbing.

“Right now, that the weather is way too cold. I wish it was spring already.”

She couldn’t stare through a phone. She didn’t have to: he could picture her easily enough.

“And also, I’m flattered. This is the third time you track down my phone. Should I take it as a hint?”

“You don’t get to banter while _trying to cause a gang war!_ ”

Jason tried not to grin. It was kind of hard. Ah, well, nobody would see it behind his helmet. He climbed the last steps of the stairs to get to the rooftop, where he would be able to discuss quietly.

“I’m not trying to cause a gang war. I’m regrouping the gangs together.”

It was hard to tell with the mechanic filter, but this muffled noise was her sighing while pinching her nose.

“How did you think this was a good idea?” she said, trying not to sound aggravated, and failing.

“You’re questioning my sanity again. I thought we’d covered that.”

“Despite your bad choices in names and careers, you aren’t insane. So _why?_ ”

There was a small shed on the rooftop. He settled on it, admiring the streets below and grateful for his warm leather jacket. It _was_ colder than usual, even though the weather was never too gentle here in October.

“To anyone else, I wouldn’t answer, considering how women like their men mysterious…”

“I’m the mysterious one. Besides, the helmet got that part covered.”

Oh, Babs, she had no idea.

“Agreed. So, the truth is simple. It’s easier to take over from one person than from several.”

Silence. Long. Delightful. He grinned.

“… Alright,” she finally said. “I do change my mind. Killing is okay in the end. _So I can end your sorry ass, you moron!_ ”

He _laughed_.

“Don’t forget who you are talking to.”

“I don’t know who I am talking to,” she reminded him, her voice wondering.

That sobered him up. He stood, shaking his head. There was only one possible answer to that.

“Not to one of the good guys.”

There wasn’t much to say after that. He waited for the silence to settle, then hung up. He shut the phone off before throwing it in one of the streets nearby. He was going to make a business out of finding phones in perfect shape for the streets rats to sell.

That wasn’t even funny.

He had needed this conversation to happen though. Needed to be reminded that this bridge had been burned. The past should stay where it belonged, which wasn’t on the phone with a friendly tone.

He went back to patrolling and kept going for about an hour, until it was time for _actual_ business. At which point he landed on the top of a restaurant. He broke in through a second-floor window.

Maroni was sitting at his desk, alone. There was but a desk lamp on. His face was surrounded by shadows. The corners of the room were dark.

The mobster smiled like a friendly shark, comfortable.

“There you are!” he said, joyful. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would show up.”

Right. Hitmen were known to disappear before getting paid. To Maroni’s credit, Jason’s helmet qualified him as one of the freaks, hence untrustworthy at best, to be put down at worst. And, well, Jason indeed _wasn’t_ a hitman.

“I think my little demonstration was effective,” Jason stated. “Are you hiring or not?”

“Young people, always in a hurry,” Maroni said, though he knew nothing of Jason’s age. At 63, though, assuming he was older was an easy guess. “I note you actually let me do all the work.”

“I gave you the opportunity on a silver platter,” Jason pointed out, annoyed.

Maroni smiled, getting up from his chair to walk around the desk.

“You did. And Black Mask did come to the negotiation table.” Something Maroni hadn’t been able to achieve by himself in the past six months. “So, we are in business.”

He didn’t mention the four henchmen from his family whose heads had lain among the others. But then, Jason had advised him to keep the ones he trusted close – which meant he had done him a favor by cleaning up a bit.

And Black Mask’s help had become more than necessary for Maroni to stop Two-Face’s growing influence. The Family’s territory borders were becoming weaker and weaker against his push.

“I’m still surprised you came straight to me,” Maroni dared to say, unaffected by this confession of weakness. “I’m curious. Why not Black Mask or even Penguin? They are reasonable men.”

“I told you. I’m from around here.” Jason could admit as much – being a dead man had its advantages. “The Families were there before the freaks and they will still be after.”

It was mostly flattery – he well intended to crush them as well as the others – but there was some underlying truth as well. The Families had been around longer. Despite the strain put on them by the newer players they had hidden resources and were more structurally implemented. They wouldn’t crumble easily.

Which meant draining their money and getting internal intel would be very, very useful.

“I made the payment an hour ago,” Maroni said. “Half the price. The other half, I will send after being safely back home.”

“And if Carmine’s men end you on the way, I lose half? That won’t do. Make sure I get it all next time. I can still change my mind.”

“Call this an incentive to keep me alive,” Maroni laughed, the old jerk. “Come on, son. Let’s talk business. The next target, of course, should be…”

“One of your shipments,” Jason interrupted. “And an important one. You need Black Mask convinced, don’t you? Two-Face will be next, then back to Black Mask himself. By then, he’ll be set on those who didn’t get hit.”

Black Mask wasn’t prone to patience. Incidentally, Jason _enjoyed_ the fact that Maroni would pay him to destroy his own organization.

Maroni was staring at him, trying to read something on the blank face of his red mask.

“You’re right,” he said slowly. “And I guess I pay you that much because you’re the best.”

“Not the best,” Jason corrected, “but certainly the best at hands.”

He damn hoped no one would be stupid enough to hire someone like Deathstroke. Not that _any_ player in Gotham currently had that much cash. They had been too busy eating each other out to spare money.

“What about the Bat?”

Ah, finally. _The_ question. Jason smirked, hard enough to make sure it would show in his voice.

“Don’t worry. I will take care of him too.”

#### ***

Barbara was lazily checking on the GCPD files to update hers with potential new information when a pop-up flashed at the bottom of her screen. She had a new message.

She possessed a few numbers which couldn’t be tracked back to her but could be used on both sides. Even Oracle needed to be reachable from time to time. She didn’t work only with the hero community: some of her informants were civilians who owed her, snitches from the streets or kids who wanted some pocket money and could keep their eyes open.

She checked the warning. It was the number she had used to call Red Hood. Considering what he had dropped on her last time he had contacted her, she opened the message quickly.

“ _If you don’t have someone to take care of this, I will. If you could just fill in the blanks._ ”

Joined to the message, a link to a Dropbox empty but for one file giving details about a man named John Dumpney. She had actually heard about the man: he was one of those drug lordling who managed to survive by working on the borders _between_ bigger gangs. This one had put his hands on a school between Falcone and Two-Face and paid tribute to both sides, just to make sure.

He was small fish. The kind who caused real, long-term damage to innocent people.

Barbara browsed the file. It was quite complete but she could see what kind of additional information would be needed to make sure not to cause any casualty. No collateral damage, anyway; she doubted Red Hood intended to simply put the man to jail.

She wasn’t going to send the information back to him. Not if that meant killing someone, even such a dirtbag. Hopefully, Dinah would be available to handle this.

“ _I got this_ ,” she answered.

A short, efficient answer. Enough to cut through the banter she had endured last time. It might be enjoyable, but she didn’t intend to let herself be distracted from what he did just because he could make himself charming.

She wished he would think about what he was doing, though. He _wasn’t_ insane.

Or maybe she was losing her touch.

She totally was. The reason why she had contacted him in the first place was not, as she liked Bruce to think, that she was intrigued because he gave her intel. No. It was because he was using a _Red Hood_.

She started typing a message to Dinah, frowning. Talking with him had given her little information. She was certain he came from Gotham – he knew the place too well, up to being able to comment on the abnormally cold weather. Except for that…

He was _familiar_. She was sure they had crossed paths before, but when? _How_? She probably knew him as Barbara; the list of the people she had met as Batgirl was too thin for her not to have pinpointed him on it yet. Not knowing was frustrating.

Another message appeared.

“ _Alright. Keep me updated? I won’t wait forever for it to be done_.”

She hesitated – but not for long. She had to keep in touch. She needed to _know_.

“ _Then would you please stop throwing away your phone?_ ”

After all, she wasn’t about to waste time looking for him when _he_ was the one asking for information.

“ _Want to get at odds with the Bat? Or just to get me in jail?_ ” he replied quickly.

He was teasing her. Poking at her, to see how she would react. Why did she have this feeling that she was always giving him more than he was giving her?

If he kept the phone, she would always know where he was. Even if he didn’t keep it on him all the time, she would at least know where his hideout was.

Which was more than she had managed to achieve until now. She had finally found him on camera, but it seemed like he didn’t care about hiding anymore. The word was out that he had been the one playing games at the gangsters – bringing them to the table to _work together_ , exactly as he had wanted – and whispers about the Red Hood were getting louder.

But then, she had known he was good from the beginning.

Still. Each time she had hacked into his phone, he had been at a different place. He had to have a hideout though, if nothing else, to hide whatever _had_ been in Black Mask’s shipment when he had stolen it.

“ _Why? You afraid?_ ” she tried, teasing him back.

“ _Of you? Yeah. I’m insane, not stupid._ ”

Either he could type very quickly or he had a hell of a voice recognition installed on his phone. And he knew how to flatter her.

“ _Didn’t you want to swim with the big fishes?_ ”

She tried to go back to her work while waiting for his answer, but she found herself more _waiting_ than _working_. Why, _why_ did she make her so… curious? God. She was turning into _Bruce!_ He was becoming her Catwoman!

Now, that was an image she was going to keep for herself. Besides, she didn’t flirt with dudes wearing red hoods. She shuddered.

Which of course was the moment he chose to answer, the notification making her jump.

“ _You don’t swim with sharks when you are the water._ ”

She snorted. Now wasn’t that presumptuous? Which was exactly what she answered him.

“ _If I had not been, I wouldn’t be there right now_ ,” he answered, which kind of was a point.

She chewed her lips. They were… comfortable together. Enough so to bother her. She had to ask. He had even initiated contact himself this time.

She decided to keep her tone casual, to allow him to make it a joke. This was a delicate moment, she could lose the fragile grip she had on him – and hence the opportunity to learn more. But the subtle approach wasn’t working so far.

“ _So, why the Red Hood? Except for the obvious provocation._ ”

She hoped her dropping all pretense of not knowing anything about that name would push him to be honest in return.

Then she waited. And waited. And waited. No answer came.

After ten minutes, she swore and started working on the John Dumpney’s file. Maybe putting an end to his activity would be enough of an apology for the Red Hood to come back to her once again.

#### ***

Robin was Tim Drake. From Drake Ent. Not even an orphan this time. What the fuck was Bruce thinking? Though that might explain partly why the kid was so rarely out.

Maybe Bruce just knew better than to take on street rats now.

Jason didn’t remember Jack Drake very well. The man was always travelling, barely stopping in Gotham at all. One might wonder how he’d found the time to marry and raise a child.

Janet Drake, however, Jason still pictured vividly. Not that she had been around more often but she was a striking woman. A dangerous smile, cold eyes, perfectly calibrated movements. Always graceful, always elegant. Jason remembered how she had considered him, gauging, before smiling knowingly. For a second, he had panicked, wondering if she knew about Robin, about everything. Then she had gone back to her conversation with some dude and he had shuddered the feeling away. Jason had been disappointed to hear about her death.

And now, her son was Robin. He was damn good at stealth, too. Far behind on fighting skills, though, from the few fights Jason had been able to spot. He didn’t have Dick’s easy grace nor Jason’s own rage. He was too restrained, too damn _polite_.

And he was investigating the Red Hood. Considering how Bruce treated him, like some unwanted glass decoration gifted by an old aunt, Jason was pretty positive it was the kid’s own initiative. So at least he had some spine.

Jason had not yet decided what he would do with him. He wanted to – scare him. _Break_ him. Put him into _fucking pieces_.

Wasn’t that ironic considering he had stolen Dick’s mantle in the first place? But it wasn’t the same. Dick had _left_. The mantle hadn’t been his anymore. He had found a new name for himself to wear. Jason had never given up Robin.

Yet… Well. Jason had _died_. No. This wasn’t the kid’s fault, even if Jason couldn’t help but to resent him. No. It was _Bruce’s_. And only his.

Jason still played cat and mouse with the kid, who was too persistent to be ignored and turned out to be a good distraction from – Babs’ last message. Manipulating mobsters worked as well.

Right. Mobsters.

He checked his watch. He should have five more minutes. He slowly moved his weight from his left leg to the right one, careful not to be visible from the street nor from the buildings nearby. The shadows surrounded him, but the place he wanted to target was risky. Moreover, he had to time his move perfectly not to cause any collateral damage, so he needed a clear view. The only passable hiding spot meeting both those needs required him to be crouched. Joy.

Finally, he saw the truck approaching. It was alone on the road – the perfect opportunity, _thank God_. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, at the worst possible moment. Ignoring it, he pressed the button. The truck exploded and, with it, all its precious merchandise.

Jason waited two more minutes before slipping out, heading back to his lair from the roofs. His legs were not happy to work so hard after such a forced rest, but well.

He only remembered about the message a few blocks away, and checked his phone. It was a picture, no comments, of John Dumpney surrounded by cops with cuffs around his wrists.

#### ***

Barbara heard a soft noise behind her, then someone swearing. She smiled, not bothering to turn away from her screens.

“There is a first aid kid below the sink,” she mentioned.

“It’s alright,” Dinah answered. “It’s just bruises. The man was even stupider than I thought.”

“Gotham grows survivors, if nothing else.”

“More like rats,” Dinah grumbled, letting herself fall onto the sofa Babs kept in her room for that purpose. “I’m sorry to ask but is your dad around?”

“You may use my shower. There are still clothes from last time, which have been washed.”

“You’re the best,” Dinah sighed with delight.

She got up and slipped in the adjacent bathroom, leaving the door open so they could keep chatting. “So, any news from your wanna be dark knight?”

“Do you want to take a _cold_ shower?” Barbara asked casually.

“No news then. Be careful, you gothamites tend to have an awful tendency toward bad guys.”

“Should we discuss Ollie?”

Dinah laughed.

“He gives me the right to comment, my dear. I have relevant experience. Though you didn’t tell me your relationship had evolved _that_ much yet.”

“Ha-ha. No dating freaks. It’s a rule.”

“Hu-hu.”

The sound of dripping water paused their conversation for a few minutes. Barbara took the opportunity to browse her files, checking on the last feeds coming from the GCPD. Then Dinah got out of the bathroom, already dressed, and a towel around her head.

“Did you at least let him know that we got the fucker?” she asked.

Barbara had not managed to find his new phone, so she had only sent a picture to the old ones when Dinah had had John Dumpney one week ago.

“He’s a big boy, I’m sure he can watch the news like everyone else.”

She rose to get her hair brush, which Dinah accepted gratefully.

“You’re right. Better make sure he knows who’s the boss from the beginning.”

This joke was getting tiring. Thankfully, Barbara heard noise downstairs; her dad was back early. She opened the door.

“Dad?”

“I bought Italian,” he announced cheerfully from the lower floor.

“I’m coming down in a minute!”

“If you have someone upstairs, he or she is welcome to stay for dinner.”

Barbara raised her eyebrows at Dinah, who shook her head.

“I’m all alone with my friendly machines, dad. Let me just wrap something up and I’ll be there.”

“Suit yourself.”

She closed the door. Dinah was ready to go, though her hair was dripping wet.

“I’ll be fine” she mouthed. “See you tomorrow?”

Barbara nodded.

“At the library.”

They hugged, because they both needed it sometimes and better do it too often rather than not enough. Then Barbara smiled, and went to join her dad.

She only came back much later to her room to find a message on the screen. What shocked her first was the phone number of the sender, which was the same as last time she’d chatter with the Red Hood – he had not switched phone this time. Then, she read the message.

“ _Because he made me._ ”

She felt a long shiver going down her spine. Red Hood. The Joker. Made him. What the hell did that mean?

With trembling hands, she typed the shortcut to have access to Arkham’s feed and checked the Joker’s cell, just to reassure herself.

It was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, yeah :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect the next one to come as quickly, I had very productive holidays - unfortunately finished now.  
> Hopefully, you won't have to wait two months again, though!

Why “the Red Hood”. Jason had hesitated a long time before answering to Babs’ question, but considering what had happened to Jim, she deserved an answer – independently of their own history. Of course, it was bound to be incomplete, but hell.

After having answered at last, he decided to distract himself by doing something more directly _good_ for once. This was more Batman’s stuff, but Batman never went far enough, so he could as well take the matter into his own hands.

He had heard of a club offering _special services_. It had taken a while before confirming it but the girls in service weren’t from around here. Actually, they were imported from Far East, mostly Korea and Thailand. Though their fake papers put them between 19 and 23, Jason wasn’t positive how _fake_ they were.

He had been digging intel for some time and was finally ready to make his move. Incidentally, the matron operating the whole thing answered to Black Mask which meant putting them down would be entirely funded by Maroni: two birds, one stone.

Jason made himself ready then went straight to the warehouse where the girls were held outside opening hours. The last shipment had arrived a month ago so security wouldn’t be as severe as when fresh prisoners had just arrived. By now, the girls were subdued into obeying.

He gritted his teeth and slipped inside.

There were about ten guards; the rest of the hired muscle was on the other side of town to bring last week’s money at the bank, directed by the matron’s first lieutenant. The matron herself, Mama Chow, was in her office at the top of the warehouse with three more thugs serving as bodyguards. They would be ready to evacuate her at the first alert, so he had to play this one smooth.

His first sleeping dart caught a guard right at the neck. He fell without much noise. Jason grappled him, tied him up, then hid him in the false ceiling. He had to act quickly; next round would relieve this group seven minutes later.

He caught the next two together, chatting at a corner instead of going their own way. Number four was at the upper section of the warehouse. Jason got number five just in time, straightening up his pants while coming up from the basements, where the cells were hidden. Spoiling the merchandise, mh? Maybe Jason was doing him a favor by catching him instead of letting the boss find out. Or not.

He had forty seconds left. Good. There was a vent going from the main room to the resting room. Jason could only get in the first half, after which the conduct narrowed, but it was close enough for him to throw the sleeping grenade in the last section. In no time, they were all asleep. It took him five more minutes to tie them all up and hide them with the others.

Now, the big fish. Jason didn’t need to bother with subtlety anymore but, since he had started, he could as well go on. He well intended to burn the whole place around the mobsters as soon as the girls would be evacuated. Those scums deserved to be _alive_ when that would happen.

He walked up the stairs, careful not to make it creak. The office’s door opened in one big kick. The bodyguards didn’t have the time to react before being put to sleep. The matron’s horrified expression was like balm on Jason’s mood.

“Hello, Chow. ‘afraid this is payback time.”

She opened her mouth. He didn’t give her the time to talk – saying one line had already been indulging himself. She fell on the ground like the others, gracelessly.

He tied them all up efficiently then took the time to bobby-trap the main entrance, the back door _and_ the hidden way in, in case her lieutenant came back early. Only then he browsed her files for evidence, just to confirm what he already had on her.

He assembled the whole lot in the main room, now rigged with explosives, and headed downstairs for the girls.

That’s when surprise struck. There was always a moment like this, even in the best prepared operations. Someone going off routine, a door locked, a lover in the closet.

The girls were in the basement alright. Most of them were pregnant.

“What the hell…”

They looked well taken care of, too, despise their haunted eyes. The cells were clean, they were warmly clothed, heating was on, beds and armchairs available.

“Is he a new one?” he heard one of them whisper to another in Korean.

Not the language he mastered the best, but he could manage.

“I’m an enemy of this clan,” he said, loudly enough to be heard by them all. “I have no business hurting you. Do any of you have papers?”

The girls froze, mute. Some of them obviously hadn’t even understood, so he repeated in Thai – with an even worse accent, hopefully understandable enough. The girls still didn’t dare to react.

Then, after several seconds of silence, the one who had whispered bravely came forward. She appeared to be one of the oldest, maybe 22 or 23.

“They took them” she said in Korean. “Even opening these doors won’t bring us freedom.”

“Some of their money will be made available to you,” Jason answered. “Those who’d rather stay and burn with them can make that choice.”

People had to help themselves. Or ended up gothamites. He would give them a chance, not force them out.

“Enough money for this?” the girl said, putting her hand on her own rounding belly.

Jason didn’t answer for a while, thinking hard. He had to find money and fake papers – but for so many people? There were easily thirty to forty girls, most of them visibly pregnant. No wonder they had needed new shipments so regularly. And the kids…

There were no kids in sight. Either they were held somewhere else or, most likely, they’d been sold. Hopefully for adoption. Jason didn’t want to think about the alternative. They were too long gone for him to find them.

That’s when his phone started ringing. The music echoed strangely in the silent room, out of place.

He glanced at the screen. It was Babs. How did she know he needed help? He picked up.

“Yeah?”

“The Joker escaped.”

Jason froze. Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_.

“And that concerns me… because?”

“I just thought it might.” The artificial voice sounded especially flat today. “Considering.”

Then Jason realized what Babs had just done. She had called a rogue vigilante to friendly warn him that someone who probably was his Nemesis – considering his name – was free. The same Nemesis who had put her father in a wheelchair. And she probably did so before calling Bruce.

She wanted him to take down the Joker.

He slowly digested the realization. Then focused back on the girls, who were staring at him expectedly. Hell. Fucking, damning, hell. He had been waiting for the opportunity, been waiting for the Joker to make a move.

 _Damnit_.

“Sorry, beautiful, I’m currently not available for the party. I kind of have a bigger problem on my plate right now.”

“Bigger than _him_?”

There was no mistaking the rage in her distorted voice. At lot of rage. Jason felt himself shiver. He knew that kind of anger only too well. It drove you to get up in the morning to keep fighting, to bite at helping hands, to smirk at life, to hate everyone and yourself not to be better.

 _Shit, Babs. You were better than this_.

“About thirty-five pregnant Asiatic women without ID, not talking English, in a warehouse. Does that qualify? Just send the Bat. For now.”

It was a promise, which he hoped she heard. Not that he was sure he could take in the clown, who still regularly appeared in his nightmares. But – anything to wipe that rage from her voice.

Another pause.

“Robin should be able to pull some strings for the papers,” she finally said. “First priority would be extraction. Do you have a place?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t supposed to handle emergency births.”

“Bring them there, I’ll send someone.”

Dr Thompkins, Jason expected.

“Roger that. We should be there in 30. I’ll send you the coordinates.”

He hesitated. Taking the warehouse down would destroy any chance, however slim, to find the sold kids. He let out a sigh.

“The boss and her men are still alive. Send someone here too. Her first lieutenant is at Gotham Merchants Bank for a deposit. I think we still have fifteen minutes before they realize something is wrong.”

“Hood, I don’t know how it goes in your book but around here, when the Joker is on the loose…”

“Fuck the Joker,” he interrupted. “If nothing exploded yet, he’ll vanish for a few days to decide on a plan, before sending some kind of love letter to the Bat. Those people need help _now_.”

He felt her hesitation. Then she swore.

“You’re the worst son of a bitch… Alright. Location in 30. I’ll take care of the lieutenant.”

“Send me news,” Jason demanded, before hanging up. “Let’s go” he said, switching back to Korean. “I’ll have people take care of you all.”

“Why should we trust him?” asked a woman to the one who had taken charge, not daring to talk to Jason directly.

Thankfully, the kid wasn’t stupid. She gave a truthful, no-nonsense answer.

“We don’t. But he seems better than the alternative.”

#### ***

Barbara tried hard not to nibble her fingernails like her 9-year-old self used to. This was absurd. The Joker was out and they were running around to help the Red Hood.

And yet… Yet she felt _alive_. They were helping people, actually, _actively_ helping. The contrast with her previous rage was stunningly relieving.

The rage, however, was merely buried – and not very deep. Because. The Joker. Was. _OUT !_

She breathed in, deeply. It was okay. He would soon be locked up again, safely back in Arkham. He would only have the time to, let’s say, kill a dozen people in the meantime. Or put them in wheelchairs.

 _Damnit_. She had to stop thinking like that. She hated to admit it but Bruce wouldn’t know rest as long as the Joker was free. He would find the freak and stop him – at least for some time.

Anyway, he would as soon as the women would be safe, and the case closed. Bruce had actually accepted Robin’s suggestion to call Nightwing back from Bludhaven to take it out of his hands even sooner, which was… ‘astonishing’ didn’t cover it. The Joker was that important.

It had taken thirty minutes to convince Bruce to let Robin out to pull the necessary strings to the creation of so many IDs, too. Tim had been even more eager to help that he’d known this would be his last time out for a long, long time. And had nothing to do with his current investigation on the Red Hood. Of course.

“I’m there!” the young man’s voice declared in the com. When you thought of the Devil… “He’s left already though” Tim added, to Barbara’s relief. “My Korean is rusty at best… Oh, wait! You talk English? Good.”

One of the women had approached him. He was able to give them the first information and to assure them medical help was on its way.

“Give them a com link,” Barbara said on an impulse, not really believing she was doing this.

“What?” The kid sounded startled. “Is it really, err, appropriate?”

“Not for them to keep. For _him_.”

Someone had told her, not long ago, to trust her instincts. The Red Hood wasn’t a good guy. He had no reason to come back there. And yet, she had a feeling he would check on those women. If so, he deserved a more direct way to contact her. More official, too.

“As you wish,” Tim agreed. “ _Someone_ isn’t going to like it, though.”

She loved how the young man himself didn’t seem to mind at all, accepting to do as she asked without even wincing.

“Someone doesn’t have to know.”

“He already does,” Tim pointed out rather truthfully.

“Then he should mind his own business,” Barbara huffed without much hope.

She listened to Tim while he gave those last instructions, then followed his route through his mask, just to make sure he was making it safely back. When he arrived at the Cave, Bruce was out and Nightwing already there.

“Hello Robin!” he grinned. “So, on the bench until he’s back in Arkham, huh? It was the same back in my time.”

Not entirely true, but Barbara guessed Tim didn’t need to know that.

“It’s alright,” the current Robin answered, and Barbara could hear his shy smile in his voice. “I’m not ready to make much of a difference. But I’ll help from here!”

“Optimistic of you,” Dick laughed without malice.

“Oh, I’ll help,” Tim assured. “Trust me.”

Barbara smiled, cutting the feed. Their new little bird wasn’t as timorous as they imagined.

Then she realized she _was,_ indeed, smiling. Robin had finished the job Red Hood had started, just by being himself. The rage was forgotten – at least for today.

#### ***

Maroni wasn’t as bright as he thought but he still wasn’t stupid.

“You’re supposed to stop the Bat, not to make friends with him.”

Unfortunately.

Jason didn’t shrug, unfazed. He was back at the office over the Italian restaurant, sooner than he would have liked. This was a necessary though annoying conversation.

“He’s a tool like anybody else. I _was_ planning for a boom, though.”

“He had you run away,” the mob boss commented.

Jason couldn’t help but to laugh. It sounded sincere, enough to unsettle Maroni.

“Let him think he can have me running away,” Jason said.

The mobster studied him intensely. He didn’t manage to figure out Jason, which was fine – he could keep wondering as long as he played along with the game.

He probably thought the same of Jason.

“Very well, as long as things keep going as planned, who am I to complain?” Maroni said, like an echo to Jason’s thought. “I would prefer you to concentrate on the matter at hand, though.”

“Batman will become your first priority as soon as your power is restored,” Jason pointed out, even if the mob boss certainly didn’t need the reminder.

“Indeed he will,” Maroni didn’t try to deny. “But currently, he’ll be busy chasing the clown. With luck, they’ll end each other.”

Wouldn’t all mobsters in town party if that ever happened. But it wouldn’t. Bruce wasn’t going to kill, ever. Jason was starting to think his reaction wouldn’t have been any different if Dick had been the one dying.

Now, that was a weird idea.

“Anything else?”

Maroni waved him away, going back to his papers. Jason slipped out, knowing the mobster would go back downstairs in the restaurant as soon as he would find himself alone. He left papers to his assistants, preferring to handle people than numbers. And he was good at it, too.

Well, it was still only 3 in the afternoon. Jason went back to his lair to face his latest dilemma, in the form of a still inactive com link.

He had been only half surprised to realize the Korean girl who had taken charge actually spoke English. She had listened to his whole conversation with Barbara, all the while pretending not to know anything about it, and had only dropped pretense when Robin had shown up. Apparently, the name was known as far as Korea – and was more reassuring than someone wearing a red hood. Figures. She thankfully had not commented while giving him the device.

Now it was lying on his table, unused.

Jason had never imagined getting one back, not even after realizing who Oracle was, not after receiving her phone number, not when he hadn’t been arrested though she knew his hiding place. Yet here it was.

It was the promise his voice would be heard, the promise of backup – the possibility for him to be called, too, to help someone else.

That she would give something like this to a killer told a lot about how Gotham had changed in the past two years.

“Are you going to take it?”

Jason cursed internally for being taken by surprised. Had it been an enemy, he would have been dead by now.

“Talia.”

The beautiful woman walked out of the shadows, graceful, lethal. She hadn’t changed since last time he had seen her, little before coming back to Gotham.

“I didn’t know you were in town,” he said, removing his helmet to look at her face to face.

“I merely was in the neighborhood and decided to check on a friend. I didn’t expect to find this.”

“I don’t intent to go back to Batman’s feet, as you well know.”

She smiled. Men killed to see women like her smile – which proved how little survival instinct most people had.

“I didn’t suggest you would. Having a master isn’t always a bad thing, however.”

Jason snorted.

“Drop the recruiting talk. Having me as a sidekick is no picnic, anyway. And I prefer to work alone.”

“You’re going to throw this away, then.”

Jason glared at her. He probably was one of the very few she allowed to survive such a glare, but then, they had history. And she knew this was how he acted with everyone.

“Stop pushing.”

She laughed, coming closer. Maybe she liked people defying her authority. She knew it wasn’t an actual challenge. Jason was good, but she could still twist him into a bretzel if she wished to.

“I’m just kidding. It feels good to see you so much better.”

Jason sighed, bowing his head slightly. She had nursed him back to health, even using the pit against her father’s order to bring him back and for that, he would always be grateful. Whatever her reasons had first been.

“Is there anything I can help you with or this really is a social call?”

She smiled again, her dangerous, snaky smile.

“It is. I had thought that maybe… But you settled right back in. I must say, this suits you much better than the Robin uniform ever did.”

He carefully hid his internal wince. Regrettably, she knew him too well for that to work. She put a hand on his shoulder, delicate like a flower, strong like a claw.

“You made it yours, but it restrained you. This, you created yourself. You are unstoppable.”

Damn that woman. He resisted the urge to grab her for a kiss. She let the moment last, this possibility hanging in the air like a perfume. Then she took a step back.

“Do call me if you ever feel the need. I am but a phone call away.”

“You will pardon me not to make the same promise.”

She smiled, indulgent, as if the idea of her ever needing him was highly amusing, before melting back in the shadows. Jason waited politely for her to be gone before reactivating his security system, patching up the opening she had found to shut it off in the first place.

When he left for patrol later that evening, he grabbed the com link and put the audio in his ear.

#### ***

Barbara was trying to concentrate on her day-work, but despise her best efforts, thoughts about her other life kept creeping out. She pushed herself for a few more minutes before surrendering and put the register back at his place, sitting at the computer instead.

As expected, there was no relevant news: the Joker had been loose for two months now without anyone finding as much as his shadow on a wall. She had received a distracting message from Dick who explained how annoyed he was to be back at the manor.

“ _Not that I mind Alfred’s care at all_ ,” he wrote. “ _But I feel like someone is frowning at me each time I make a decision. And Bruce isn’t even there._ ”

Because he spent his days searching for leads and his nights in the Cave was left unsaid.

“ _I’m worried for Tim_ ,” Dick concluded. “ _His dad might have woken up from coma but he isn’t well, and Bruce is being worse than usual. Tim, of course, only worries about_ him _._ ”

Ah, Robins. Barbara sighed. There wasn’t much to answer to Dick’s email. He probably had not intended to complain, merely writing to amuse her before his worries had taken the upper hand.

“ _Italian tonight?_ ” she suggested. “ _Tim is welcome to come along._ ”

The kid sure needed the distraction. She had seen his trace about everywhere she was investigating herself. Being forbidden to get out on the roofs as long as the Joker wasn’t back in Arkham, he had little other to do but to search for information through the Net. And he was good, too, better than Dick had been at his age.

She checked her _other_ mail box.

The mail she found there was empty but for a triple X. There was a file attached. She double-clicked to open it, and smiled. Those were all Maroni’s blackmail files on Gothamites upper class.

She had work to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Jason climbed his building’s fire escape, cursing his lack of luck all the way up. Or maybe his lack of common sense. Or both. Why on _Earth_ had he labeled Robin as unthreatening? Because he had more experience? Because the kid had been grounded with the Joker being at loose? Damn him, he had been in those shorts, he _knew_ Robin always had to be smarter than people thought and disregardful of Batman’s rules.

Though Jason wasn’t running away _from his own base_ because Robin had busted in through a window – thankfully, because _that_ would have inevitably led to a confrontation he didn’t want to happen. Yet. Maybe ever. No. _Tim Drake_ had walked in by the front door, which was – alright, brilliant, unanticipated _and_ mindful of Bruce’s decision – but also incredibly _stupid_.

Even if the kid had thought of a cover story – and he had, of course he had – this would way too easily link ‘Tim Drake’ to crime-fighting. Not even talking about the lack of armor and tools! Did the replacement really think he could pull that off? Apparently, he did.

Jason reached the rooftop and fired his grapple, teeth gritted. In less than ten minutes, he was entering his closest alternative hideout. It wasn’t his second-best but it had access to his security system and he had to monitor if the replacement was finding any critical information.

Even the second-best was far less supplied than his main base, _damn that brat_. At least the stolen shipment wasn’t stored there.

Jason turned on the computer and opened the video feeds. Here he was. Short, looking even thinner in his jeans and hoodie than he did wearing Robin’s cape, his hair ridiculously spiky. And he was very busy poking around.

Jason felt his gut clench. His replacement. In his base. It wasn’t a home. But then, he didn’t have any. He didn’t _need_ any. Just bases, hideouts, and Gotham all around. But this was still _his place_ , curse him! _Curse him!_

He had already found the first cache, which was more complex than the average crime-lord’s but nothing too fancy either. It contained Red Hood’s next plans, the tapes of his meetings with Maroni, and a copy of the unsigned letter he’d received earlier that week from Black Mask’s secretary. They wanted to make contact. On the computer one could also find his conversations with Oracle.

In short, it didn’t reveal anything at all, except for his contract with Maroni, which wasn’t much of a secret. At worst, Jason would lose the income and have a scrape at Red Hood’s reputation. That cache was made to give any intruder the feeling that they had found his secrets.

The _other_ cache was much better hidden. It also had higher security: it required voice recognition, hand print and eye scanner to open. One also had to _avoid_ using the numeric keyboard. Any digit typed would trigger an explosion. And even in there, the biggest secret to be found was his ties with the League and with Talia. Jason hadn’t felt the need to shoot himself in the foot by writing down his name anywhere.

The kid was browsing the first cache’s information, frowning. His hands were touching the computer, the files. Jason felt about to be sick.

It was bad enough that he and Dick of all people had handled the women _Jason_ had saved. It was almost worse than if it had been Bruce. But no, the big Batman was too lost in his own little world of darkness to care anymore. The _replacement_ wasn’t even doing _his fucking job_ which was to _keep Batman on the line_ and here he was _touching Jason’s stuff_.

Taking his place. In his home. _Again_.

Jason snarled. _This was too much._ Then suddenly, the rage quieted down, a decision emerging. His finger started typing the detonation command. He would be magnanimous. He’d leave a secure path to the door so the bird would be able to fly away.

Jason activated the bomb.

#### ***

Barbara was trying to localize the signal of the com’ link she’d given to the Red Hood, but unfortunately it had been either unplugged from its satellite GPS or destroyed in the explosion. She had never been madder at herself, except maybe the day of her dad’s _accident_. How could she have been so _blind_?

“But yeah, he’s doing fine, considering,” Stephanie said. “A broken arm isn’t that bad.”

The poor girl didn’t know that Barbara, Barbara who was like a mentor to her, Barbara who she was confiding to, had been _working_ with the Red Hood for the past weeks. God, here came the guilt. Anger never could keep it at bay for long.

“Oracle?” the kid said in the com’. “Are you still on?”

“Yes, yes,” Barbara answered through the distorted voice of her digital persona. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little bit… stunned. Tim was not supposed to be investigating.”

“Yes, he told me to stay out of the roofs as long as the Joker was at loose because he wouldn’t be around. He didn’t tell me he had been _forbidden_ to get out like a child, though!” Stephanie said with an annoyed sigh. “I mean, Batman can’t just _decide_ that for him!”

And of course the petulant girl would think so. _Spoiler_ , in her purple costume. Barbara shook her head. She had been there, she had been the wannabe vigilante girl with little training and no supervision. She could see now why Bruce had disapproved so much. Ah, children.

She just hoped Stephanie would be as lucky as her and survive her decision to put on a mask. Bruce had – forcefully – forbidden her to show herself in a costume. So of course Barbara _had_ had to propose her training and protection, in the form of regular sessions with Dinah and a com’ link the girl could use to call for help if needed.

It wasn’t encouraging her. After six months running around in a purple suit, it was obvious Stephanie didn’t need any encouragement. It was only helping her, teaching her how to survive.

Her dating Tim certainly didn’t help dissuading her, either. And she didn’t even _know_ who Tim was – she was still dating only _Robin_. Barbara doubted this would keep going for long.

“He can’t,” Barbara admitted, answering the kid at last. “But in this case, it is good advice. The Joker is way too dangerous for either of you to handle.”

Barbara didn’t need visual to know Stephanie was pouting.

“Alright, alright. I hear you. I’m staying home, am I not? Except for my training sessions, of course.”

“Of course.”

She wasn’t lying. Barbara had put a tracer on her suit long ago, even if Stephanie hadn’t taken care to take her com’ link along each time she got out – which she did. The girl was young, not naïve. A true Gothamite.

Jason would have loved her.

Barbara pushed the thought away, concentrating on her new mission of locating the Red Hood. She didn't understand that man. One day he reminded her there were more important things than stopping the Joker – that he wasn't worth innocent people's lives, even though the two of them were linked somehow. Then the next, he detonated a bomb on _Robin_? She really didn’t get it.

She wasn’t about to try, either. He might have been a possible ally before – but not anymore. Never. If the Red Hood ever made contact again, she would find him. Even if he didn’t, she would _find him_.

She was _not_ letting another Robin die. Not on her watch.

“Anything else I can help you with?” she asked in the com’.

“No, thanks,” Stephanie answered. “And, you know. Thanks for listening.”

“No problem, kid.”

She turned the radio off, concentrating on her job. She was going to put the Red Hood down. And she was going to do it _personally_.

Robins were off limits.

#### ***

The discotheque high ceilings were a true wonder for any vigilante. It made up for the faint smell of alcohol which stuck to the walls, even so high up. The place had been closed for the night – not that Mondays were famous for their liveliness anyway – and was now filled with smoke and mobsters.

The meeting assembled a fraction of the Falcone family with one of Black Mask’s newest lieutenants. A lot of them had had to be replaced, all with Jason killing them. It had made room for younger, more cunning bastards. They were like beetles; they kept appearing out of nowhere, no matter how many of them you crushed.

The new kid in question was an arrogant prick who had walked in with a proprietary grin. Half an hour later, he wasn’t grinning anymore.

“You can’t expect me to believe this!” he protested, his voice slightly too high pitched to pass for casual. “You said you would have it!”

“Hey, not my fault, it’s the truth for real,” swore the boss of Falcone’s faction, not even bothering to hide his smile. Antonio ‘Nino’ Solletico had a face like the wrong end of a boxer’s punch and had been working for his Family for more than thirty years. He had been too careful for Jason to get to him yet. And, obviously, was not impressed by the latest generation of wanna-bes. “Cross my heart.”

Prick tensed, jumpy, almost ready to take out the guns. Jason smirked. Things were tensing, as he had anticipated – hell, as he had made _sure_ they would, though Prick was making it even easier. Good. Jason hadn’t been able to hit on Black Mask yet, after his last failed attempt. Incidentally, he felt the need to crush a few bones. That never failed to cheer him up.

“Come on,” Solletico was saying. “We’re among friends, yes? It’s just business.”

Prick grit his teeth, ready to bite, but putting the guns aside for now. Jason smirked. It wouldn’t be long before he went back to it.

Then his smirk grew bigger, enough for his cheeks to start hurting. Fuck. Two days and the damn explosion hadn’t been nearly enough to calm him down. It was about time for him to get in a fight. He needed to _punch_ and _break_ and _shatter_ – and _howl_ – and…

Jason took a deep breath. Concentrating on the scum downstairs. Yes. Prick was criticizing Solletico’s operations, implying their failure to get him the item he needed was caused by their lack of brain capacities. That guy was gold. Jason might let him live so he would keep messing things around. That was, if Black Mask didn’t have the sense to end him himself after what was about to happen.

The mobsters’ faces blurred for a second. Jason felt his heartbeat accelerate, along with the need to drop and grab one of them to _smash his damn skull_. A little fight, and he’ll feel better. Yeah.

Maybe the explosion had been a bad idea. It had made it worse. But it had felt so _right_ on the moment…

The discotheque door opened, making everyone in the room jump in various levels. Solletico hid it the best, with a smile growing on his lips to mask his disapprobation.

“I thought we had made sure no one would disturb us?” he asked his right-hand, who was frowning.

“We did.”

A man stepped inside and Jason felt his insides go cold. He knew that casual walk, the way the man’s suit would look tailor-made when in fact it had been patched up by a cheap seamstress, how his grin wouldn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry everyone, I didn’t want to bother. I’ll make it worth your time!”

Solletico sighed heavily.

“Matches. This doesn’t concern you.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I have _news_. The game-changing kind.”

Jason tensed. What the _hell_ was Bruce doing there? This couldn’t be a coincidence. Or was he? He had to know something was supposed to happen. Maybe he did even know why, but how could he know who organized it? Had the replacement had the time to hack into his system when he broke into his apartment? No. Jason would have noticed, he was monitoring him the whole time.

“Why are you all standing around?” Bruce was saying in Matches’ lazy tone. “I would gladly grab some wine. There is a bar in this place, isn’t there?”

Solletico had the slightly aggravated smile of someone torn between amusement and exasperation. But Matches’ reputation was not to be made in Gotham; people knew his tips were useful. Bruce had made sure of that.

The capo waved at one of his men, who hurried to the bar and came back with two bottles of _Chianti Rufina_ and some glasses. Tables were dragged in the middle of the room, along with chairs, and in a few minutes the place went from deadly tense to cozy, with some guys discussing the superiority of _Chianti_ over _Pinot Nero_. Even Prick had loosened the attitude to accept a glass, which he tasted with an approving flick of the tongue.

Jason was choking with rage. No, this was not going to happen. He was not going to let Bruce ruin his work like this. And, as retaliation, he was going to target _Matches_ instead. Solletico and Black Mask could wait, neither were as much a treat as Bruce, even under Matches’ specific mask.

Jason opened the message he had prepared in advance and changed the name in it, then pressed the send button. One of Prick’s thugs interrupted his comment on _Montepulciano_ to check his phone. He paled.

“Hum, boss…”

Prick frowned at him. This guy had a gift to make people dislike him, Jason had to admit. Thankfully, the henchman stayed professional and handed him his phone. Prick paled, getting on his feet so quickly he almost knocked the chair over.

“You called that man Matches? Matches Malone?”

Solletico raised his eyebrow, then took the time to sip his glass before answering.

“Yeah, so?”

“He is the one who took the gem from you!”

Solletico put his glass back on the table, not looking convinced. As for Bruce, he looked at Prick, then at Solletico, then started _laughing_.

“ _Me?_ I ain’t no thief. I don’t steal from my friends, anyway. And what, you received the intel right when I walked in here? Is it from a good source, at least?” Then, as Prick failed to answer instantly, “Looks to me like someone wants this deal to blow off.”

People tensed, glancing around. Prick cast a suspicious glance at the henchman who gave him the phone which, God, could this guy get more annoying? Couldn’t he _attack Matches instead?_ He had been ready to fight for no reason only a few minutes ago! Jason had _given him one_. _Fuck_.

This was enough. Rage was pulsing red on Jason’s vision, the grin erased from his face. He took a few of the short-range bombs he had carried along in case of emergencies and activated them, throwing them from the ceiling to the middle of the tables. They exploded, provoking chaos and screams, to Jason’s delight.

 _Finally_.

Mobsters went running in all directions. The more professional ones pulled their guns out and started firing at the ceiling. Jason grappled to a skylight, emptying his own guns on them while moving. There were enough of them for him to hit some on his way out.

Landing on the rooftop, he waited for them to start climbing the stairs. He could easily escape, but what would be the point? He had intended to have some mobsters killed today, and he would make damn sure it happened.

The first guy got out of the stairs not expecting everyone to have stuck around, and got promptly shot in the head. The second didn’t have the time to pull back quickly enough, but everyone else stayed safely in the building.

“Come one, come on, little boys,” Jason whispered.

The grin was back, the rage replaced with adrenaline. This was much, much better. And the best part didn’t even start yet, though it wouldn’t be long, now, if he knew Bruce well…

Jason felt the air move behind him and rolled forward to dodge. Batman landed on the exact spot where he had been a few seconds before, his cape folding around him. He didn’t wait for him to gain his balance back, firing at him with more anger than accuracy.

This was not how it was supposed to happen. But then, nothing had been happening as planned since he had come back to Gotham. Jim Gordon, paralyzed. Barbara hiding to be the Oracle instead of wearing her Batgirl suit. The new Robin – let’s not think about _him_.

And now, now _Bruce_.

Jason dropped his guns; his ammo had run out. Good timing. It was time to take this to fits anyway.

He ran toward Batman, dodging his first punch to land his own on his ex-mentor’s stomach. Bruce didn’t even flinch, grabbing his fist instead and using his balance to throw him across the roof. Jason rolled away, making sure not to get a batarang in the back, then…

A sharp pain in the shoulder stopped him even before he could hear the _bang_ of the gun. _Shit_. The mobsters. They had been waiting for them to be distracted, safely hidden inside, and someone had decided to make a smart move.

Thankfully, a batarang made them retreat hastily. Jason panted, grabbing his shoulder. It hurt like hell but, damn, he couldn’t help but to smile.

“I must admit, Batman… I love to see you work.”

Then he jumped from the rooftop, knowing that the thugs would intervene as soon as the only killer was away. After all, Batman was only going to put them in jail. Bruce wouldn’t have the possibility to pursue.

He slowed his fall by planting his knife in the wall, almost dislocating his good shoulder in the process, then let go the handle to land two meters below. His knees almost gave in, the loss of blood already hard on his body. Shit. He had to take care of that quickly. Shoulders wounds were dangerous. They really hurt, caused a lot of damage and one could bleed out in a few minutes.

Thankfully, they were easy to mend. That was, if the bullet hadn’t stay stuck inside. He managed to take his high-end field dressing from its pocket. Removing the leather jacket was harder, the pain in his shoulder blinding when he took out the sleeve. He somehow managed not to pass out and pressed the bandage on the wound, hoping it would be enough.

Now. Walking. Not running, running would make it worse, but he didn’t have much time. Those pitiful thugs wouldn’t hold Bruce for long. However, in the streets, he was an easy target. He considered the sewer for a moment but – no. No need to infect the wound. And he was in no shape to jump on the roofs.

Then the streets would have to do.

He managed to walk for a few blocks. The pain was nothing. Well, yeah, it slowed him down, but he had had worse. Huh. _To die for_. Though at least it had been a major villain’s doing. To be killed by a common thug, now, _that_ would hurt his pride. To death, actually.

What the hell had he been thinking, attacking while Bruce was there like that? It had been a stupid move. But he had been so angry… The feeling had been boiling in his skull ever since he had seen his replacement in his apartment. Then the explosion. Then…

Fuck, the explosion. He had tried to _kill Robin_. _Robin_ , of all people! What the fuck was _wrong_ with him? But – he had left the boy an opening, right? Only triggered the bombs _inside_ , not the ones on the way out… He had to be alive. Right?

And _that_ was why Matches Malone had been there, of course. Bruce was trying to stop the Red Hood because he had killed Robin. No, no, the boy was _fine_ , maybe a bit bruised…

Jason stopped. His head was spinning. Shit. Damn dressing wasn’t enough, he should have put it on sooner. He felt his knees give in and had to lean against the wall. He was in a back alley, full of garbage. The tags were fading. At least it wasn’t Crime Alley. _That_ would have been overdramatic.

His vision was blurring. Was the kid alright? He tried to activate his com’ but – right. No more com. Not when one tried to kill Robin. Or succeeded? Shit. _Shit_.

Ah, he wasn’t standing anymore. God, the street stunk even more when you were closer to the ground. He reached clumsily for his phone, hitting the speed dial. Nothing happened. Oh, right, the phone to his ear…

“Who’s this?” Babs’ voice sounded angry, angry and metallic. He wished he could hear her real voice.

“Hi.”

An hesitation.

“Red Hood? Is that you? Are you really _calling me?_ Do you even realize…”

Jason laughed. Fuck. It made the pain worse.

“Is he alright?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Robin. Is he alright?”

There was a pause. He needed to know…

“Red Hood, are you there??” She sounded worried now. God. He was even more gone than he’d thought. Had he passed out without noticing? “Red Hood?”

Everything went black.

#### ***

Barbara felt the need to call Batman and she hated herself for that. Seriously. She didn’t need his help, and he wasn’t entitled to know what had happened to the Red Hood just because Robin had been attacked. If nothing else, he deserved _not to know_ , because Robin should never have been there alone, and wouldn’t have been if Bruce had done his work as the boy’s mentor.

Still, old habits.

She parked her car closer to the signal that she’d liked. It could be a trap, but for some obscure reason she didn’t think it was one. She knew the Red Hood had been fighting Batman earlier that night, and that the latter had managed to bust the villain’s operation. There were few chances that he’d pull two of those in such a small timeframe.

She checked her GPS, prepared her taser just in case – despite the mask she was wearing, she was dressed like a civilian and didn’t intend to blow her identity except if her life was in danger – and stepped inside the alley. God, that smell…

She almost missed the form crouched between two trash container. Jesus, he was a real mountain of muscles, wasn’t he? Though she really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Red Hood?”

He was hurt at the shoulder. There was a bandage around it but its antibacterial adhesive agent couldn’t stop the bleeding through his clothes.

“Idiot,” she stated, not knowing if she meant him for being so stupid or her for being there at all.

She took a knife in her belt – yes, yes, she still had her old one and _sometimes_ it came in handy, shut up conscience – and started cutting through the fabric. She had barely started when Red Hood convulsed, grabbing her wrist hard enough to have her drop the knife.

“Hey, calm down, it’s me,” she said, which shouldn’t have helped at all since they had never met face to face. He hadn’t even heard her real voice.

It seemed to do the trick, though, because he let her go.

“What the… What are you doing here?”

“You’re hurt.”

“We’re in the field! You could be… Why didn’t you send _him?_ ”

“He isn’t the boss of me,” she snapped. Then sighed while retrieving the knife. “Though you would deserve it. I was going to call the police on you, actually.”

He let her resume her work on his clothes. His damn helmet made him even more blank than Batman. It was kind of unnerving.

“What changed your mind?” he asked.

“You called.” Really. “And you asked if the kid was fine.” While calling him _Robin_ , no less, though that might have been a lucky guess. After all, there weren’t so many dark-haired teenagers going after supervillains those days.

“Always… Too trusting,” he panted. He really wasn’t faking it.

“Less talking, more working,” she muttered, concentrating on what she was doing.

The fabric was hard to cut, partly armored, but she knew enough about those kind of clothes to do it right. The design was familiar, actually; it was the kind of suit Batman and Robin wore. Not to the point, of course, but still…

She managed to rip enough of it to reveal the Red Hood’s chest and shoulder – and froze. There were scars, that she had expected. But their pattern… There were more of them of course but still, she did recognize how that one made an arch around his pectoral, and those were the fading traces of four bullets he had taken to the chest when he was younger.

Barbara stared at them, then at the blank helmet, and breathed in.

“Jason?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I shamelessly quoted Under the Hood. Sounded logical, even if this is an AU.  
> Also, this was not planned. This was supposed to be a nice romance. But then, people pointed out how Jason was mature in the previous chapter and I was all “oh my god, you’re right, he’s being too mature”, so… Ahem. Blame canon.  
> Let me know what you think so far! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Why Barbara had come in person – why someone had come _at all_ – was something Jason couldn’t fathom. This last week, he had tried to make Robin explode, _successfully_ killed several mobsters, thrown away the one thing she had given him as token of her trust (namely, a com’ link) and fired a gun at Batman. And yet, here she was.

Maybe he was hallucinating again. It hadn’t happened since the very first week after the pit, but, hey, he had lost a lot of blood and was sitting in a back alley in Gotham. As far as he knew, there might be traces of the Scarecrow toxin around.

Yet her hands felt real on his chest. He wished he could smell her scent, but that would have meant taking out the helmet.

She managed to cut enough fabric to reveal his bare chest, and froze. Was it that bad? She stared at it, then at him directly, and breathed in.

“Jason?”

Adrenaline ran in the little blood remaining in his veins. He tried to straighten up, but she pushed him back.

“You’re _hurt!_ ” she protested, before swallowing. “Is that really _you?_ You were _dead_. I saw your _corpse_.”

“Next time, put a bell on it. Can we – not do that _here_?”

She flinched and quickly put another dressing on his bleeding wound. Her lips were tightened in a thin white line.

“You need medical care.”

“No.”

“I would press on that wound to make a point, but you lost too much blood already. I’m getting you to the clinic.”

“With a _bullet wound?_ Then you could have just sent him in the first place.”

She grabbed his wrist and _twisted_ it with rage.

“ _You were dead!_ I’m not letting you die again, _not on my watch_ , do you understand? I’m driving you to Leslie’s, and if I need to sedate you and drag your sorry as to the car myself, I _will_.”

He tensed, paling even more behind his helmet.

“No. _No._ She’d recognize me, she’d _tell them_.”

“For fuck’s sake…”

Jason tried to put his brains back together and to stop shivering.

“Let’s get real here. You wouldn’t be able to drag me to the car, even if it’s parked right at the end of the alley. I’ll need your help to walk there. Then we go to some place I know. I’ll get care.”

She paused to consider his suggestion, then nodded – thankfully. He really hadn’t wanted to try to fight her in this state. She was entirely able to put him down and drag his ass to the clinic as suggested, even though his weight _might_ give her some challenge.

With her help, he managed to get _mostly_ back on his feet. He was five good inches taller than her now, which was all kinds of weird. She wasn’t wearing heels, period, but still. She had always towered him, even after he’d finally started that grow spur – a bit late, because of his former malnutrition, Alfred had said.

It took some time to walk to the car, but he finally managed to collapse on the backseat. He gave her a GPS location right away, hoping not to pass out _again_ before arriving. It only took a couple of minutes; it was easy to have several safe houses in Gotham, especially when one had a lot of money and knew the city like the back of his hand.

“That doesn’t look like a hospital.”

“It wouldn’t,” Jason pointed out.

She snorted and helped him out. He opened the security panel and typed his password; the door unlocked. Barbara was frowning, but still walked with him inside. The place was bare but for a bed, a kitchenette, a table with a couple of chairs and a cupboard packed with medical items. The armory was in the other room.

“This _isn’t_ a hospital!” Barbara exclaimed. “Not even an illicit one!”

“It’s not,” Jason admitted easily, grabbing the nearest chair to sit on it. “Could you bring me the kit?”

She stared at him. Then she went to the cupboard and did just so, her sharp movements betraying her anger.

“I can't believe you lied to me!” she said while dragging the other chair next to his, finishing to cut his cloth open.

“I can't believe you _believed_ me,” he retorted.

She glared again before going back to concentrating on her task. It was nice to have someone else taking care of this. He _had_ lost a lot of blood. If he passed out, she could keep working. Well. And probably call Leslie over, too.

It was nice having someone he trusted enough to not only let her in one of his bases, but also poke at his wound. He had forgotten how good that felt.

Then again, retrieving the bullet hurt like hell. Like every time. It wasn’t Barbara’s first time, though, and neither was his. He found himself in bed quickly enough, helmetless, with the bitter taste of G-CSF in the mouth and a saline solution in the drip beside him. With some luck, he wouldn’t need an actual blood transfusion. _Right_.

“What now?” he asked.

Barbara gauged him. Then she moved the table and chair right next to the bed and took a laptop out of her bag, plugging it on.

“Now, you sleep,” she said simply, settling in.

“There’s tea in the kitchen,” Jason heard himself say.

He saw her smile. Then, nothing.

#### ***

There was indeed tea in the kitchen. Not any tea, either; it was the exact same brand of Darjeeling Alfred used to have at Wayne manor. He probably still did. Barbara hadn’t been around for quite a while now.

It wasn’t coffee, though, and the chair wasn’t comfortable, but she wouldn’t have been able to sleep even in her own bed. Not now that she knew. Jason’s form lying on the bed was way too still for her taste. She checked his vitals every few minutes or so. Couldn’t help it.

No wonder he had sounded familiar, damnit.

He was older, though. Stronger. How long had he been back? Had he died at all? This couldn’t have been one of Bruce’s ploys. Not with the way the _Red Hood_ had acted since he’d arrived in Gotham. Not with the way Bruce himself had acted after Jason’s death.

Jason’s face was older, too, but not so different that she wouldn’t recognize his features. Jason had been a cute kid. He probably managed handsome easily enough, now, when he wasn’t exhausted.

She had taken samples of his hair and skin and blood. To check later. She _was_ a gothamite. Gothamites didn’t trust what they had in front of their eyes except if they could sell it.

She had hesitated to call someone. But who? Not Bruce – even he didn’t deserve _not_ to know, but… Considering how Jason had acted toward him, she couldn’t. Not Dick, either. Sure, Dick had been crushed by Jason’s death, but they hadn’t been that close before that. Jason hadn’t been part of the Titans for long enough to make real friends.

She couldn’t do that to Alfred. Though Jason would totally have deserved an unexpected face-to-face with the old butler.

So here she was, waiting for the morning, dispatching people through her laptop. Batman didn’t make any comment but she saw him file his encounter with the Red Hood in the Batcomputer. Then, finally, she saw people log out one by one, until no one else but her stayed online.

She tried not to think about all the new scars she had seen under Jason’s clothes. Without the so specific bullet wounds, she might not have recognized him, considering how the new had started covering the old.

She tried not to wonder why he didn’t show any trace of autopsy scars. He had had one, she knew. Bruce had taken care of it himself, the old fool. As if the reason of Jason’s death hadn’t been obvious enough in the first place. But then, Jason _was alive_ , so…

She blinked, then frowned. She could smell tea. There was someone behind her. _Jason wasn’t in the bed anymore._

She jumped slightly, tried to move, and – God, her neck was killing her. She might have dozed off for a few minutes. Hours. Was it day-time already? Wait. Priorities.

“What are you doing _on your feet?_ ” she asked in her most threatening tone.

“Making tea, obviously.”

She turned to glare at him. He wasn’t standing at the moment, merely waiting for the tea to infuse, sitting on a chair, but he had not teleported there.

“You got shot yesterday. You _bled out_. Go back in bed! Now!”

The jackass dared to roll his eyes on her.

“I got over it.”

“You don’t have the right to say that to me,” she said, her voice barely shaking at all. “Latest news said you were dead.”

“I got over that, too. Wanna drink some tea?”

“ _Jason!_ ”

He snorted.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He had already settled two mugs in front of him, so she didn’t have to eviscerate him for getting up again. Instead, she dragged her chair back at the table and accepted the mug. She tried to glare some more while drinking but, one, it’s really hard to glare with steam covered glasses, two, the tea was just that good.

And hot. Way, way too hot.

“Did you burn your tongue on it again?” Jason asked

“Just shut your mouth, will you?”

“Only with a kiss.”

The damn jackass managed handsome very well, thank you. It made Barbara’s chest hurt, hard, because this sounded like his usual banter, looked like his fucking teasing smile most people wanted to punch out of his face, tasted like his favorite brand of tea… and he was _killing people_.

Barbara put the mug back on the table.

“What the hell happened to you, Jason?”

#### ***

Jason almost asked if this was a rhetorical question because, _come on_. He knew better than to crack that kind of jokes when Barbara was making her serious face, though.

“I died, then got better. I thought we covered that already.”

Alright, maybe he didn’t know better. Who was surprised?

“I’m not kidding,” Barbara said. “You owe me an explanation. You owed me an explanation _months ago_ , you asshole! How could you… be back and not tell anyone? How could you take contact with me and not _tell me?_ ”

The anger didn’t get at him. The _hurt_ in Babs’ voice did. She was kind of right, too: she had nothing to do with Bruce’s shitty behavior. Hell, she had ditched him as well, though for different reasons.

He put down his mug as well, sighing.

“I woke up in my coffin. No idea why. Memories are messy, I was alive but still had brain damage. I was rescued and nursed back to health.”

“From brain damage to health.” Count on Babs to point out whatever he wanted to leave untold. “By whom? All your training… And you have funds. _Ra’s?_ ”

Jason couldn’t help but to smile. She was as sharp as ever.

“Talia, actually. Ra’s was quite pissed that she’d used a pit on me.”

Babs’ expression went from inquiring to concerned. Fuck. People weren’t supposed to be _worried_ about him anymore.

“Its effect dissipated after a few days. And yes, she helped me to find teachers.”

“Who trained you to _kill?_ ” Barbara spat, furious again.

Strangely enough, this didn’t feel quite like the rage she had been broadcasting when sending him after the Joker. Maybe because she was, once again, more concerned than angry. That felt wrong in so many ways.

“Only so I wouldn’t come here and try to kill Bruce right away,” Jason admitted, showing some of his own rage for the first time.

That startled Barbara out of her own thoughts. She studied his face.

“You wanted to kill him.”

Jason wished he’d felt good enough to get up and pace. As he didn’t, he settled on sipping some of his tea instead – and, ouch. She was right: it was too hot.

“At some point. Fuck, Barbara, how long did it take him to replace me? I know _I_ was only there to replace _Dick_ , but still. And the Joker…”

He slammed his hand on the table, making her spoon tinkle against her mug. She didn’t as much as blink. However, her face grew cold.

“Yes. The Joker indeed.”

The mood hadn’t exactly been light until now, but it was now growing outright heavy. Jason considered his next words carefully – but when he talked, the words he was planning to say disappeared from his mind.

“How is he?” he asked instead, softly, carefully staring at his mug, not daring to say Jim Gordon’s name out loud.

She didn’t answer right away. He heard her swallow some tea, then curse. Yeah, it would take a few more minutes before the beverage became drinkable.

“Surprisingly, well,” she said at last.

Jason looked up. She looked so unbearably sad, he almost… he _did_ reach for her hand.

“How are _you?_ ”

She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

“We aren’t talking about me right now, boy wonder.”

He winced. She’d gotten him. He didn’t let go her hand, though, because… because. Damnit.

Then he did. Shit, she was fucking with his resolutions.

“Who I am beneath the mask changes nothing. I’m the Red Hood.”

“And you kill criminal scum, I hear you.”

She wasn’t asking him if he intended to kill the Joker. He wasn’t pointing out that she had tried to have him do just that.

“What about Bruce?”

Jason tensed. He could have talked for hours about what had been his initial plan, how he had wanted _Bruce_ to decide between killing the Joker at last or killing him – to have him admit that he _didn’t care, hadn’t cared, ever_.

“What about him? He fucked up, that’s what he did,” he said instead. “And I don’t mean by letting me die, we both know that happens on this job. But Gotham? All gone to hell.” She didn’t comment, which was as good as her agreeing. “And why the _fuck_ did he have to drag another kid into this?”

“About that,” she interrupted.

Jason took a deep breath.

“Tell him to stay the hell away.”

“You asked me if he was alright,” she insisted, her voice soft to lessen the impact of her pushing. “You called me, knowing I’d probably send Batman at you, half fainting, to make sure he was alright.”

He clenched his first. He needed to move. To lash out. Fuck his wound.

“He has to _stay away_.”

“I thought the effect of the pit only lasted a few days?”

Jason pursed his lips. What did she want him to admit? That the pit was still there lingering? It would be way too easy to blame the pit.

“I made the conscious decision to kill people. Don’t go imagine the pit has anything to do with that.”

“And I was willing to work with you despite all this, wasn’t I?” Babs reminded him because, yeah, she had been. She had given him the com’ link even though she knew he was a murderer. “But Robin? Robin is off limits, God, Jason, you of all people know that.”

He did. He _did_. Fuck.

“You didn’t tell me, by the way,” he commented.

Barbara blinked. Jason looked away.

“Is he okay?”

This time, it was her turn to reach for his hand.

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

#### ***

Barbara had left soon after their short conversation. She had felt she couldn’t push more, not that day. She well intended to have him talking again later on. Unfortunately, she could understand how he had changed so much. Because he hadn’t. Or because she had, too.

Life wasn’t fair; they had both known as much. It still hurt like hell when reality punched them in the face.

She still didn’t get over the fact that Jason was, in fact, alive. Her samples had confirmed his DNA. He himself didn’t seem to have a clue on how he had come back – and Barbara trusted Talia to have investigated the issue. If she had found something, Jason would never have gotten out of the League. And if Talia, with all her resources, couldn’t find out the how…

Barbara settled on thanking the gods for this miracle.

She had accepted not to tell Bruce nor any of the others for the time being – mainly because she didn’t want to lose what little trust Jason had left. He did seem to trust her, or at least to trust her more than anyone else from Gotham. Except, maybe, her father, but she didn’t want to involve him except if it became necessary.

“Bruce is going to kill you when he’ll find out,” Dinah commented. “He’s going to kill _me_ when he finds out.”

Barbara winced. She had managed to stop herself from inviting the blond over for a whole day before giving up.

“I’m sorry. I had to talk about it to someone.”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t realize I know,” Dinah sighed. “Or that the Moon stops revolving around the Earth.”

“I’m really, truly sorry. But what should I _do?_ ”

“You should _tell Bruce_. He’s bound to find out.”

Barbara shook her head.

“I can’t betray Jason like that. He barely trusts me, and I don’t think he trusts anyone _else_. Except maybe Talia, which isn’t a point in favor. I mean, if he feels like I betray him and turns to her instead…”

“Then… I don’t know, Babs. You Bats have a convoluted way of thinking, you know?”

Usually, Barbara would have protested to being included in that category, but Dinah did have a point.

“You mean gothamites,” she corrected nonetheless.

“Whatever. You do.”

There was no good answer to that. Dinah considered her for a few seconds, then arched her eyebrows.

“So. He isn’t that much of a villain, in the end, right? Brother against brother, the plot becomes even more interesting.”

Barbara stared at her.

“You’re kidding me, aren’t you? It’s Jason. He’s alive. And after you go through the whole ‘Batman is going to kill me’, the first thing that comes to your mind is the love interest angle?”

Dinah’s eyes sparkled.

“So you admit he is one.”

“He is not!”

Damn, she shouldn’t have protested that strongly. This was only going to encourage Dinah.

“He totally is.”

 _Damnit_. Barbara rolled her eyes, because showing that she was the only mature person in the room was the only way to do some damage control.

“Of course he is. Despite him being my dead ex-boyfriend’s brother and six years younger than me.”

Dinah gaped at her. Barbara frowned.

“What?”

“You counted the years.”

Barbara froze. She had.

“It’s just something I _know_.” It _was_. “And, really? Him being Jason makes all this a lot more complicated.”

Dinah leaned toward her to pat her shoulder.

“Complicated is what you like the most, Oracle.”

Unfortunately, she got that right too.

#### ***

Jason had only intended to take a look at the city. He had been staying put for two weeks now and it was driving him crazy. So, no patrolling, just taking some air and news. Then he had practically stumbled upon two guys trying to rob a grocer’s shop. Kids, really. It had taken seven minutes tops to stop them and have the owner call the cops.

He had barely made it back safely to a rooftop when his phone rang. He didn’t have to look at the caller to know who it was.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

“You idiot, you ought to have waited at least two more weeks,” Oracle’s distorted voice said in his ear.

“Come on, this wasn’t _really_ fighting.”

He could see her roll her eyes. He smiled under his helmet.

“Go back to your lair, Hood.”

“And go to sleep without a kiss?”

“Only for tonight,” she promised. “I shall have another com’ link delivered to your place by tomorrow.”

His heart missed a beat. Well, if she had been willing to trust the Red Hood, why wouldn’t she trust Jason Todd? But still. _Still_.

“That will do,” he said, hoping the helmet would hide how breathless he was.

“I knew it would. Oracle out.”

She had his back. She had _Jason Todd’s_ back, which was… Relief. He felt relieved. He felt _safe_ , which was stupid, so, so, stupid, because he could still get killed, he could still…

But he wouldn’t be forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know Jason wasn't forgotten, but he doesn't.  
> Also, I wondered about the autopsy scars. I'm pretty sure he would have had an autopsy. However, I decided he wouldn't have those because he was brought back by a reality change which made him never having been dead in the first place, somehow.  
> I'm sorry if what happens with the blood loss isn't 100% believable, I just googled some doc, but then huh, this is a comic verse. The main character came back to life. So, well.  
> I hope you still like this :) Don't hesitate to give me feedback!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I was busy with NaNoWriMo :) Enjoy the new chapter!

Bruce had never been Barbara’s friend. He had been a mentor, on his _best_ days. A colleague, most of the time. A pain in the ass, sometimes.

A pain in the ass, _period_. And she wasn’t even the only one to say so.

“I mean, I _love_ the manor,” Dick was sighing in the com’. “But it’s my _dad’s place_. It’s just weird.”

“I would have thought you to be pleased to be called back,” she commented, because she had endured his broody mood for _months_ after Bruce had oh so gently fired him from being Robin a few years ago.

Dick stayed silent for a few seconds. Alright, maybe that had been a bit harsh. She was nervous, unsure on how to behave with him with this big secret hanging over her head.

“I’m kind of pissed to have had to leave Blüdhaven, actually,” he finally stated. “The situation there is really hard, you know? Blockbuster’s hold on the town is crushing, and the police… They’re as bad as the GCPD was before your dad.”

Barbara fought back a sigh. She only understood too well. Leaving had been hard on Dick – rightfully so – but he had learnt from it, had become his own man. Blüdhaven was his city. He had invested a lot of time and energy into getting it better.

 _Too much_ time, even. Hell, she didn’t know how he had managed to work day-hours as a cop in addition to those spent at night at being Nightwing. She knew how much _both_ works were draining on their own.

It was only a proof on how much Blüdhaven meant to him.

“Why did you come back?” she asked.

“Are you kidding me? Why do I even have to tell you? I mean, with the situation here…”

“Alright, the Joker is free. He isn’t doing much of anything for the moment.”

That was actually worrying. She had expected him to act soon, with a bang or a laugh, but – nothing.

“Tim was _hurt_!” Dick protested instead.

 _Someone_ should tell him to stop using real names on the com, even if it _was_ secure. But she had been harsh enough on him for the night.

“That was after you coming back. Besides, it’s just a broken arm. I can think of at least three times you were hurt more than that.”

“It’s not the same. Bruce is…”

“Don’t make me start on _him_ ,” she interrupted.

“It’s not the same since Jason died, you know that!”

A wave of guilt almost made her drown. Bruce might not be a friend but Dick _was_ one and he _cared_ and he _deserved_ to know.

Jason would kill her if she told him, though. Maybe literally. No, not literally, he wouldn’t do that. Or would he? If he was on a bad day… Those were rare but she had felt them regularly anyway, she was even starting to discern his triggers. ‘Betrayal’ would definitively be one.

“Hem, Babs? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She winced.

“No, I didn’t intend to… I know it was hard on you. Sorry, you caught me on a bad day.”

Jason wasn’t the only one to have those, after all.

“Don’t apologize. We all have the right to have bad days. Even you, superwoman.”

She chuckled.

“Don’t call me that! Now I’m imagining myself in bright blue with a big S on the chest. That’s so embarrassing. And I don’t even imagine the faces Kal would do!”

Dick laughed.

“I’m warning you, if you ever find yourself in such an outfit and don’t send me at least a picture, you’ll never hear the end of it!”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Not even for Halloween?”

“Dick!”

His laugh echoed again, warm and contagious. Barbara felt herself smile.

“Alright, I have to get serious again, I just spotted a mugging. See you!”

“See you, wonder boy.”

She went back to developing her brand new security software, but could only concentrate on it for a few minutes before another call came in. She thought about not answering to keep going then saw the name of the caller. She opened the line.

“Hello, gorgeous,” greeted a deep, familiar voice.

“Hello, Jason.” If someone _was_ listening, now would be a good moment. No? Damn. “How can I help you?”

“Why should it be business? Can’t I just call to get news?”

“Ah yes, I remember that call when you came back in Gotham… Wait.”

He snorted. The jackass. But it meant this was a good day.

“Alright, I’ll admit it, I, mere mortal, need help from your higher intelligence ô Oracle.”

“Moron. I’m listening.”

“I’ve been tracking down the new _Streghi_ gang. They’re not exactly organized like pros, but their lab is hidden in the middle of the old Ace Chemical complex on the East side. I could map it myself but it would be so nice if someone could just send me the actual map?”

Ace Chemical. Barbara bit her lips. She had a question to ask, but she didn’t want to ruin his mood. It was a necessary question, though, even a crucial one – for both of them.

“Of course. I’m sending it to you right now.”

“Thanks. By the way. No need to hold on, Babs, I can hear it when you’re not-saying something, even through the com.”

She had hesitated too long before answering. And he knew her too damn well. How did he even manage? They hadn’t worked that much together back in the time. Maybe their way of thinking was alike? Now, that was a frightening thought, considering.

Barbara took a deep breath.

“Do you have any leads on _him?_ ”

He could hear her not-saying something, but she could hear him roll his eyes. She blinked. She had expected anger, not dismissal.

“My dear Oracle,” he said. “I love you very much. But do you take me for an amateur? I don’t have a lead, I have several. Besides, he’s bound to make contact with me. I’m the _Red Hood_ , remember? I will be part of his next game.”

She had actually forgotten about that. This name was the reason why she had started digging. The Joker was bound to do the same.

“Don’t be so cocky. Him wanting you to be part of his game is _not_ good news.”

“He doesn’t expect me to know him, beautiful. I’ll handle him.”

“Jason…”

She bit her lips, then forced herself to take a deep breath. Then she deactivated the voice distortion she used when she was logged in as Oracle.

“Please, be careful.”

Silence.

“I will be,” he whispered. “I promise.”

She closed her eyes, worried and warm at the same time.

This time, she had heard his _smile_.

#### ***

Jason was on his way to Ace Chemicals when his phone buzzed. It wasn’t a text but an automated alarm – and not one he had configured himself. He frowned. It had to come from Oracle’s system but… What kind of alarm would come to _him_?

In doubt, he dialled her number, for the second time that evening. She didn’t pick up.

“Come on, Babs.”

He dialled again. Nothing. Something cold and insidious was growing inside his chest. Which was stupid – she could take care of herself. Hell, he could kick his ass any time.

Still. Why wasn’t she answering? Maybe one of the _others_ was there, Jason rationalized. Or maybe she was on the line with them to inform them of the details of what was happening. He couldn’t read the warning itself; it was encrypted and he knew better than to try to break an encryption key created by _Barbara Gordon_.

He stopped at the top of a roof, hesitating. Then, with a curse, he headed back to Gotham Midtown, to the Gordons’ house. If she had a problem, he wouldn’t leave her handling it alone.

He was halfway there when his com’ link activated.

“Red Hood?” Oracle’s mechanical voice asked, thick with worry.

“Yeah. I received your signal. What’s happening?”

“Sorry about that. I’ve given you a high level of authorization in my system, just in case. I didn’t expect this kind of situation to occur before I had the chance to code a specific access for you.”

Aouch. Well, he probably deserved that. Less, even. He couldn’t help but feel warm, knowing she’d given him access at all.

“Anything I can do?”

“Batman and Robin are on their way. Nightwing should arrive shortly after them. No one else seems available right now.”

Her tone was flat, yet, he could feel something was amiss. For some stupid reason, his heart started beating faster and he accelerated his movements, running on the rooftops.

“They’re en route. Alright. Will they make it in time?”

“I’m not sure they will.”

He took a deep breath.

“Babs. Fill me in.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds, then she sighed.

“Shootings were reported near the place where Robin lives.”

Jason stopped dead. A wave of feelings he really didn’t have the time for strangled his thoughts and throat. He pushed them away by sheer will, inhaling sharply, again, again, that’s right, you can breathe normally.

“Where?” he demanded, because on his life he couldn’t remember where the replacement lived right now.

To her credit, Barbara only hesitated for a second before answering him.

“It's on Cossey street. Your ETA can't be more than…”

“Two minutes,” Jason completed, speeding up to jump on the next rooftop. “What number?”

“14b. I have dispatched the others too,” she warned him.

“Needless to say.”

He was running, jumping, taking risks to get there sooner. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t _allow_ himself to think. The replacement, his very existence _hurt_ – but he was _Robin_. No Robin should be hurt. No family of a Robin should die. No one. _No one!_

He skidded, stopping his movement at the very border of the rooftop he’d landed on. He had visuals, now, and things didn’t look good. There was someone inside the house.

“I'm there. Going in.”

He didn’t wait for her answer, grappling to the smaller building, feet first. There were two people in the kitchen. They both jumped when he crashed down through the window, giving him the second he needed to assess the situation.

Jack Drake was alive, hiding behind the counter with _a gun in his hand?_ What the hell? At the entrance of the room stood Captain Boomerang, which was even more of a surprise. He was barely in the business at all, those days.

Without thinking, Jason rolled to Jack, kicking the gun away from his inexperienced hands and making sure to protect him with his own body.

“Stay down, Mr Drake,” he hissed while removing the security of his own gun. “I’m here to help.”

Granted, this was only marginally believable considering the obvious arsenal hanging on his person and the clearly unfriendliness of his red helmet. But his words seemed to stun the man enough for Jason to start shooting at Boomerang.

The man had been good, and still was.

Unfortunately for him, Jason was better.

“ _Down_ ,” he repeated to Drake while getting out from behind the counter in order to take the fight to fists.

Boomerang was only good with distance weapons. He wouldn’t stand a chance against him in hand-to-hand combat. Of course, that meant offering his back to a man whose kid he’d made explode a few weeks back. Hopefully Drake wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Boomerang shot his weapons at him, trying to step back in order to keep his distance. Jason slalomed between them, making sure to also stay out of reach of their returning trajectory, then slid on the ground to tackle the man off balance. At once, he was on him, punching his face so hard it bounced back against the ground.

With a groan, the man lost consciousness. Jason got back on his feet to check if Jack Drake was still alive.

The man was frozen, eyes wide, a boomerang stuck in the counter less than an inch from his face – but alive. And happy about it.

Jason snorted.

“You’ll be fine. The rest of the building is clear. I checked the surrounding area while coming; no one else will join in. No one hostile, that’s to say.”

Jack Drake swallowed, trying to push himself back up, leaning against the counter, holding it like a life preserver.

“You… Do you work with… With Robin?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Jason’s eyes actually widened behind his mask at those words. The man _knew_ about his son having a thing for tights? Wow. Things did change, in the end.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Consider this a favour.” Or rather, an apology, but no need for details. Jason headed for the broken window. “Lovely to talk to you, but I’ve got go to.”

The very uncharacteristic sound of a door being slammed open echoed at the first floor. Out of character for the Bat, but certainly not for a kid who was coming to check if his dad was still alive.

How weird that this Robin still had parents, Jason mused. Bruce wasn’t Tim Drake’s dad.

Maybe Jason hadn’t been entirely replaced, after all.

The kid appeared at the doorframe. A taller shadow was following him, reminding Jason he’d better fly away. He waved at them with two fingers then quickly fired his grapple to let it drag him away from this mess.

He only stopped running five blocks away, once sure Bruce wasn’t following.

Much later, he received a text from Babs. ‘ _Thank you_.’ He didn’t really know what to make of that. Nor of what had just happened. He felt a bit numb – but, for once, not with pain. He had managed to save Robin’s parent, this time.

He had just put back his phone in his pocket when he felt the earth tremble. He looked up. Something was shining green in the direction of Blüdhaven.

#### ***

There was nothing left of Blüdhaven. Only a huge green cloudy dome visible from Gotham’s bay. Barbara felt so helpless. Tim had sent her a message earlier to inform her that Bruce had dosed Dick with sleeping pills so he wouldn’t run into the contaminated zone to try saving people. That had happened at the Drake’s since they had all been gathering there. Dick had since been brought back to the manor.

It was so _crazy_. They had been ready for so many things – The Joker coming back, which he hadn’t; Captain Boomerang dying on the operating table from a skull fracture, which he had; Jack Drake being briefly accused of murder as a consequence – but no… not _this_.

Something tapped at her window, startling her. Usually it would have been Dick, but he was still out of commission and Tim wasn’t leaving his father’s side any time soon, so who could…

 _Jason_.

She deactivated the security to let him in. He slipped inside, courteously removing his helmet. He wore a simple red domino underneath, more than enough to hide his identity considering no one had seen him in years.

He stepped inside as him visiting was a common occurrence. Dragging a chair next to hers, he blinked when he saw a notebook covered in trembling lines, writing exercises fit for a 6-year-old.

“Do you have a kid around?” he asked.

“No, I’m teaching a young orphan to read and write. And talk.”

He looked even more puzzled.

“Because saving Gotham on a weekly basis isn’t enough?”

“There are many ways to save a city,” Babs retorted, before forcing a smile on her lips. “Besides, weekly? You underestimate me.”

He rolled his eyes. It was so nice to have him there, peaceful, friendly even – _alive_. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to that.

Also, he really was unfairly tall. Better to have him sitting still.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she enquired.

“This time, it really isn’t related to business,” he promised. “With all what’s going on… I thought you might, well, not mind me being there.”

He was trying so hard not to be hesitant, yet she could see how afraid he was to be rejected. It broke her heart a little to see him so sure people didn’t miss him. Someday, she’d have to strangle Bruce for being that bad at showing emotions. It would hurt less if he was an actual asshole who didn’t care – but no, he was just too busy with his Mission to tell his sons he _loved_ them.

In the meantime, she’d have to handle his Robin’s fears herself. After all, what was Batgirl for if not to talk some sense into the birds’ brains?

She carefully covered his hand with hers. Well. Covered. His hands _too_ had decided to go on a growth spurt, obviously.

“Thank you for coming. Your presence is… very welcome. I did need a friendly face.”

Jason was above blushing, but he couldn’t entirely hide his embarrassment. Not to her.

He cleared his throat.

“Okay, so, I’ll just, settle on the couch or something. Is your dad there? Or can I get downstairs and make some tea?”

“You know him. He’s out, trying to organize some help force to be sent to Blüdhaven. He doesn’t really care that he isn’t a cop anymore. No masks downstairs, though. Nor _guns_ ,” she declared.

Jason rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest, removing both mask and weapons to leave them on a shelf.

“I guess there are little chances of a bad guy jumping on me here. If one of the good ones comes around and attacks me, though, I’ll count on you to stop them.”

They both knew neither Batman nor Robin would be around soon, which was most likely why Jason had decided to come over. Bruce would be busy, like Jim, at organizing a rescue – either as Bruce Wayne or as Batman, with the Justice League. And even if Tim decided to leave his father side, he was still confined to the manor with the Joker being free – and would probably concentrate on making sure Dick didn’t do anything stupid.

Them not being a problem allowed not only Jason to come but also to accept her conditions. Another day, he would have struggled and left rather than part from his guns. But not today.

Barbara felt her shoulders relax. She _had_ expected to be alone for the whole evening. It felt good not to be.

She went back to work, wondering how Tim was feeling. He might have wanted to stay with his dad, but she knew him – he hated being left behind again. That Bruce had done the same to Dick didn’t help.

Her mug disappeared from its spot on her desk. She heard the sound of water being poured, before it reappeared, diffusing a delicious smell of coffee.

“There,” Jason said. “The tea is infusing. I thought you might want some caffeine in your blood in the meantime.”

“Marry me,” she sighed with delight.

His laugh was much deeper than before, too.

“So I can take care of the house while you fight crime? I think not.”

“Pity. You’d make a perfect wife.”

Jason snorted. She sipped her coffee. He still remembered how she took it: half a sugar and just a drop of milk.

 _Or_ he was a stalker like all members of his family and had memorized this habit just in case. Being Oracle, she couldn’t exactly blame him. _She_ certainly knew he took his coffee black, with a lot of sugar – and he hadn’t drunk coffee before his death.

“So. Helping orphans, you said?”

“You should try it. Assisting someone so directly really helps to get through the day.” She waved at her screens. “I mean, I’m well aware that this does a lot of good, but… We never see the results, you know? Or only years after, we notice the city is doing better. Helping one specific person… is different,” she ended clumsily, not finding the words to express how satisfying, how _rewarding_ her voluntary work was.

Surprisingly, Jason nodded.

“I see what you mean. I used to think I’d help out at the Foundation when older.”

“You still could!”

He glared.

“Good try. But no, I’m not going to Bruce with flowers just so I can help around.”

“What the Hell has Bruce to do with any of this?” Barbara snapped. “First, Martha Wayne Foundation isn’t the only one in town. Two, what they need the most is volunteers ready to do the day-to-day work. You don’t need to be a Wayne to do that!”

He raised his hands, surprised by her vehemence.

“Okay, okay! I know all that. I just… Someone like me isn’t exactly a good example to have around kids.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Well you wouldn’t go as Red Hood, obviously. But as yourself.”

“Jason Todd is _dead_.”

She stared at him. Then paled. He didn’t actually mean…

“You _do_ have a day identity, don’t you? You _aren’t_ on the mission 24/7?”

“What for?” he shrugged.

He didn’t have the decency to be embarrassed. He didn’t _realize_. What had Bruce done with him to get him so entirely dedicated to the mission that he had even _less_ of a life than the Batman himself? Not that Bruce showed up a lot, lately. Not since Jason died.

He finally noticed her dismay, and blinked.

“What’s wrong? Don’t look at me like that!”

How could she even put this into words? She took his hands between hers, wishing him to understand. Obviously, it didn’t work, so she shook her head.

“Jason. Before anything else, we’re _people_. You aren’t a _machine_. You can’t just… _erase_ yourself into the mission.”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like there was anything interesting about _Jason Todd_.”

He smiled, as if it this was a shared joke. She fought back the urge to punch him, but still jumped on her feet.

“ _Jason Todd_ is what is interesting about Jason Todd!” she yelled. “How can you even suggest… How can you possibly _think_ …”

He gaped, shocked by her fierceness. Then he got up as well, hands raised.

“Alright, alright! No need to be so vocal.”

“ _Yes_ , there is need! Don’t ever. _Ever_. Say to me that you are worth nothing, Jason Todd. Or I swear to God I’ll call everyone so we can make you a damn _list_ of all the reasons why you’re an amazing person, _which you’ve always been_! And I don’t need their help but I’d still call them so you can hear what we _all_ saw, still see, in you, you damn moron!”

Now that she had found her voice back, he was the one unable to form a coherent sentence. He tried, tried again, then just started pacing, his right hand going through his hair again and again, more nervous than she had seen him in ages.

Finally, he stopped.

“I never did anything significant before becoming Robin.”

“So you never offered shelter to younger kids?” she snapped.

“It’s not _significant_ …”

She stood in front of him, showing her teeth.

“Look me in the eye and say that again. Say again that giving those children shelter so they wouldn’t sell themselves not to be outside in the cold was _insignificant_.”

At once, his mouth clapped shut. His shoulders tensed. His eyes became icy. He hated to be reminded of his past – he hated that anyone knew about it. She had never admitted before that she had been aware of what he’d done, thought very briefly, in order to survive. She had always thought it would hurt him too much.

But she was done listening to his bullshit.

“You went through everything bad Gotham could throw at you,” she declared, detaching every word. “And you survived. Not only you did, you helped other people to survive as well. You made it easier for them, even just a little bit.”

She glared, challenging him to protest. He didn’t. So she went on, her index poking his chest to underscore her words.

“You. Are. A. Good. Person. You always have been.”

For a second, she thought she’d gotten through. She saw his face crumple, his eyes water, and, for a second, a need for recognition so hard it had to hurt. Then his expression closed off. He turned his back to her, grabbing his guns on the self.

A second later, he was jumping out the window, running away.

#### ***

Jason couldn’t deal with this. He just _couldn’t_. The nice feelings, the holding hands, the words that carved a hole in his chest – _no_. He was running because any other reaction would have meant him exploding. He couldn’t stop; his lungs were on fire and his heart beat so fast it was going to jump out and it meant he was still alive. Alive. Not thinking. Not _feeling_. Just… only his body mattered. No emotions. None.

When he stopped hearing anything but the water strafing on the pavement, he paused. He found himself in the Bowery, in those old mazy streets he knew so well he could run among them with his eyes closed. Or with his brain not working. This is where Talia’s men had found him, she’d said.

He walked, not caring about the rain soaking his clothes. He’d left his jacket at Babs’. It would stay there. He didn’t intend to go back.

A building stood in front of him. He knew what was inside: a meth lab the Red Hood had yet to close down.

He didn’t wear his helmet. He found out he didn’t care.

He removed his guns’ safety, and opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About fics references: so yes, I'm using [Street Rat](http://archiveofourown.org/series/79453) as background for Jason :p There won't be more references to it though so it's not necessary to read the series.  
> About chronology: I only finished to put together the chronology after I started this fic, but it's not that bad since this is an AU. Normally, what happens with Captain Boomerang and Tim's dad in _Infinite Crisis_ occurs before Jason coming back in _Under the Hood_. Bludhaven explosion does coincide with the end of _Under the Hood_ , though (but I won't give details about that crisis because, crisis).  
> About "the orphan Babs teaches to", of course, it's Cass. Considering the changes in Bruce's behavior here, I don't think he'd adopt her or anything, but Babs would definitively help her out, so here she is ;)  
> Last point: the conversation between Babs and Jason was absolutely not supposed to finish like that XD So I had to change my whole plan after this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

This wasn’t happening. Barbara’s screens were covered in windows, all showing news from the same event: a horrible shooting which had occurred the previous night in the Bowery. The media weren’t exactly condemning, considering the kind of people who had been killed, but the body count rated high even for Gotham.

Twenty-three people. Including the henchmen, the boss, the laboratory assistants, and one prostitute who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, they said. She was the only one who had been killed by a different gun, though, so it was safe to bet she had been dead before the shooter arrived.

The shooter.

“Jason, what have you _done_?” she whispered, horrified.

He had killed before. A lot of people, she knew. But not like that. This, this was _madness_. He had snapped again, his brain switching from the perfectly nice boy who had prepared tea for her to a mindless killer, unable to think things through. Unable to _feel_. She feared it had been the point.

And this time, she had been the one to trigger him. She knew better than to put those dead on her conscience, but – still. It felt heavy.

There wasn’t much she could do now. Actually, there was only _one_ possible answer to this.

She shut down the computer, went down the stairs and grabbing her coat. Her dad was in the living room, watching TV; she kissed him on the cheek.

“Going out. Cass will be there in an hour. Please tell her I’m sorry and will be there next week with hot chocolate.”

Jim frowned.

“Is everything alright?”

“It will be,” she assured him.

Undisturbed, he shut down the TV and wheeled to the kitchen.

“If you’re going to skip her lessons, I will at least greet her with something to eat.”

Barbara grinned, and went to hug him some more. Her dad was the best, she’d always known, and it showed a lot in the way he handled the young girl. He didn’t mind her barely speaking, unfazed by the way she talked more with movements than with words.

Then again, with Bruce, he’d had training.

“Love you, see you later!” Barbara said, before heading to her car.

Twenty minutes later, she was parking in front of the Wayne manor.

#### ***

Jason didn’t feel better, but he felt like himself again, which was a start. Not nice, or bright, or a _good person_ – no. Just 100% Jason Todd. Granted, it meant he felt like shit. Because he might not be bright but he also wasn’t stupid. Unfortunately. And he could lie to everyone but to himself, no matter how hard he tried.

Killing people to show how much of a bad guy he was, huh? To prove the world he was doomed, had been since the beginning, and could never be saved.

To tell his damn brain that, yeah, he hadn’t been wrong, there had never been another path for him. He was born trash and would die as trash. Which meant he could make the choices none of the others would make. Because he was damned already. It didn’t make him worse.

 _Fuck_. Jason hated himself so damn much. How _stupid_ , how _immature_ had someone to be to kill people for _that?_

Suddenly, a shadow moved on his left. He dodged by reflex, instinctively blocking the blow that would be coming to hit his spleen. But rather than Batman’s brute force, he found himself facing Nightwing’s impossible twists. Dick kicked him out of balance, targeting his ankle then the hand he caught himself on, forcing him to roll away.

As Jason was adapting his movements, Dick switched to a more direct style, striking Jason head on. Literally.

“Are you _nuts?_ ” Jason yelled, because only someone with a seriously deranged personality would bang his forehead against a helmet _on purpose_.

That did the trick, though. Dick used Jason’s surprise and loss of balance to slam him against the ground. Even with the helmet, Jason saw stars. Damn. The first Robin had always been good; clearly he had gotten better.

“Had enough?” Nightwing asked, his hand closed against Jason’s throat.

Was this a real question?

“Yeah. _Sure_ ,” Jason answered, not bothering to make it sound like anything else than sarcasm.

“Good.”

Dick released his grip but, before Jason could take advantage of it, muscled arms wrapped around his chest. It took him a few seconds to realize he was being hugged.

And one more to understand Barbara had sold him out.

His vision turned red. Deliberately, he put his hands on Dick’s back – only to press two specific points which made the older man twist in pain. To his surprise, though, the grip only tightened.

“I’m not letting you go,” Dick panted. “Not again.”

“You sure meet daddy’s standards for theatrics,” Jason cursed, fighting to get free.

Dick still didn’t release him. Jason bucked, rolling over him, taking advantage of his height and bulk – and of his brother not being used to it.

No. Not _his brother, damnit!_ Furious, Jason punched him on the face, and would have kept going if Nightwing hadn’t caught his wrist and twisted it to take the upper hand, managing to get back on his feet. They ended up sparring violently, neither of them holding back. And the circus freak knew how to throw a punch, fuck him. Jason spat a tooth.

“Apparently, you haven’t,” Dick pointed out.

He was exactly as infuriating as he had been before Jason died. That made one want to crawl back into one’s grave.

“I haven’t what?” Jason balked.

The prick _grinned_.

“Had enough.”

How could he? How _dare he?_ He had never showed anything but hostility toward Jason when he was Robin, except at the very end, when he’d been so glad Bruce was talking to him again he would have done anything to make it last. Probably because, by then, Dick had realized Jason hadn’t replaced him, but merely served as a crutch in his absence.

“Yes, yes I _have!_ ” Jason snarled, his punches getting faster and meaner. “Enough of you, enough of your face, enough of your fucking self-righteous ass!”

“Hey! I am told my ass is nice!”

Jason struck so hard the rooftop’s tile broke. Dick finally seemed to realize his jokes only made him more furious, and put on his serious face.

“Jason.”

“Shut up!”

“No, _you_ shut up!” Dick shouted, and one felt something, to see Nightwing angry, he who was always so composed. Something like delight. “You were dead! How could you not…”

“Buhu, my little brother died, cry me a river,” Jason interrupted. “We were never brothers in the first place, you moron. We barely talked to each other.”

“Yes!”

Alright, that got Jason to stop. He had expected hearten speeches, assurance of life-long love _or_ pure aggressiveness. But admission?

“Yes,” Dick repeated, quieter. “And it was stupid of both of us.”

If he had elaborated in any way, talking about guilt or pointing fingers, or Heaven forbid playing the card of his recent trauma of losing Blüdhaven, Jason would have been able to shut him down. But this? This still hurt. Because at 13, Jason had wished so hard to become part of a real family.

Yeah, right. And all wooden puppets got someday transformed in real boys. Except not.

Antagonism aside, Jason knew Dick Grayson. The man was physical about a lot of things, touching people when he was sad and when he was happy and when they told him to leave them the fuck alone. Talking to a blank face wouldn’t do, he had to _see_.

So Jason removed his helmet. Then his domino.

Jason saw Dick’s face crumple, his eyes widening behind his mask. No wonder. He wasn’t seeing a starry-eyed 15-year-old, but the face of a hardened adult who had pulled the trigger and didn’t regret it.

“Tell Babs that her best try failed,” Jason commented before jumping from the rooftop.

Thankfully, Dick didn’t try to follow. Jason needed to think. And, first of all, he needed to get his things and move away from his base. None of the others he had around town were as comfortable but they would have to do.

He removed his earpiece to dump it in a trash a few streets away. That’s when he became aware that he was being tailed – and not by Dick. With a shock, he realized the steps were way too light to be Bruce’s.

And that he would have never felt anything if his pursuer hadn’t wanted him to.

Jason took a deep breath.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. What do you want, Robin?”

The last word grazed his throat, the words bitter on his tongue. Yet, when a slim figure stepped out of the shadows, the wave that hit him wasn’t anger, but _longing_.

The new Robin had modified the uniform, which was hardly news. For the first time, Jason thought it was a good idea. This wasn’t a mimic of Beloved Dick Grayson the First, even less of the eagerly forgotten Jason wanna-be-teenaged-vigilante Todd. While still being a tribute to the name, it was more practical, blending in the shadows, slimmer, enhancing both his wearer’s protection and stealth. It suited the new Robin like a glove.

“Aren’t you supposed to be grounded?” Jason commented, because he had no idea what else to say.

“I don’t think obedience has ever been any Robin’s specialty.”

Jason laughed, making him jump. The kid was nervous. Which meant he had sense, considering what happened last time they’d crossed path, and what Jason had just done to Dick – admittedly, Dick had given everything back. Yet, it hurt.

Jason was starting to be tired of being hurt all the damn time.

“Don’t worry, kid, I don’t have explosives on me this time,” Jason said, then thought again. “Or, well, I don’t intend to use them. On you, anyway?”

Robin nodded seriously.

“I suppose that will have to do.”

If one squinted one’s eyes hard enough, maybe with the help of some tools such as a microscope, this sounded like humor.

Alright. This metaphor didn’t make any sense. That only meant Jason needed to get some sleep – which he wouldn’t, not today, not with the mess his brain was turning into since last night.

“Now that non-lethal intentions have been established, what _do_ you want?”

“To say thank you,” Robin answered quickly.

“About your father? Don’t mention it.”

To Jason’s surprise, the kid shook his head.

“No. For having been Robin. I… mean this in a good way?” the kid finished clumsily.

That one had to get along with Bruce tremendously. Jason snorted. Then chuckled. Then downright started to laugh. The kid turned bright red, which made things worse. Soon, Jason actually had to lean against a streetlamp not to fall.

Robin straightened, wrapping himself in his cape.

“I’m sorry,” Jason managed, giggling.

“Please do laugh at my awkwardness. I won’t mind.”

The kid also managed a very good imitation of the Bats deadpan humor. Jason could appreciate that.

“You little bat,” he said, composing himself. “I can see someone’s influence, here. Or just the reason why he chose you, I guess.”

“He didn’t choose me,” Robin countered.

Jason frowned. What did he mean?

“Batman needs a Robin,” the teenager developed, as if that explained everything. In a way, it did.

“You mean you, what, went knocking on his door to ask him for a job?” Jason asked, amused at the idea.

“Literally, yes.”

Alright, that one got him.

“What do you mean _literally?_ ”

“I went to knock at his door to…”

“What do you mean _knock at his door?_ ” Jason yelped and, honestly, he hadn’t realized his voice could still produce so high-pitched sounds.

The kid had the nerve to look amused.

“Well, I raised my hand and…”

“ _Kid!_ ”

The dork _laughed_. Well. Chuckled, but coming from a Bat, it was as good as a full-throat laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Robin apologized. “One doesn’t get to brag in front of his dead idol very often. No offense.”

“None taken,” Jason replied, a bit stunned. Idol?

“I might have been kind of a… stalker? Before all this?” Robin explained, waving at his suit. “I was… hem. A fan. Even before you became Robin but… I was a bit young still. Nightwing had already taken the name when I started to follow you around.”

“You _followed us?_ ”

It sounded like Jason was stuck on repeating the kid’s sentences, but he couldn’t help it.

“To take pictures.”

“You have pictures of Batman and Robin,” Jason said out loud, just to make it clear.

The kid nodded. Christ.

“He must have loved that one,” Jason muttered to himself.

“He had me destroy them all, of course,” the teenager mentioned. Then he grinned. “And I kept copies. Of course.”

Jason had to fight not to grin back. This kid had something.

And that something was _Robin_.

“It gives you magic,” Jason stated, stuck between bafflement and wonder.

The kid blinked. Then smiled.

“Thank you.”

“You can’t possibly know what it means,” Jason exclaimed.

“You said that in the cave.”

Jason started. Robin blushed. Then cleared his throat, trying to gain back some composure.

“When I started, I was… I wanted to learn from you.”

“From the Robin who died?” Jason commented sarcastically.

“From the Robin who saved so many lives and, yes, died doing so.”

Why did it hurt coming from Babs and Dick, but not coming from his fucking replacement? If he could, Jason would sue his own brain for driving him crazy. Honest. How did the damn thing work? Oh, right. He’d been hit on the head. That explained a lot.

Not so badly for his short-term memory to be defective, however.

“You still didn’t tell me how you went to _knock at his door_ , brat.”

Robin grinned and, before he even moved, Jason knew what he was going to do. He still didn’t have the time to catch him before the kid grappled away.

“That’s a story for another time! Gotta go!”

In a blink, he disappeared, melting back in the shadows. Jason swore, but his heart wasn’t in it. He actually felt more peaceful than he had in a long, long time.

#### ***

Jason should have known better than to think he could drop out of Barbara’s radar. Oh, he was good, one of the best, but she didn’t intend to lose track of him ever again. If he died and was put in yet another grave, she’d make sure the new one would be better monitored than the damn Batcave.

She didn’t feel any guilt at having ‘betrayed’ him by telling Dick he was alive, either. The revelation had been long overdue. Dick had only been mad at her for about half a second before just crumpling from relief because he got a second chance at this. Because his not-so-little brother was alive.

She had let him handle how to diffuse the information past that point. Dick had kept it to himself. Then again, when had Tim ever needed anyone to _tell_ him things?

Unfortunately, the little bird shared this trait with his mentor. So here Barbara found herself, at two in the morning, monitoring her screens. Bruce was bound to intervene and she wanted to be aware of it in time if someone had to do damage-management.

 _Or_ she could code some facial recognition based on Batman’s cowl to wake her up whenever he’d enter Red Hood’s new base – if you could so qualify the squalid flat he’d settled into. Hell, the place had had to have been insalubrious the previous _decade_. It was a wonder his security system worked at all. Admittedly, he’d had to install his own generator.

Her brain was dozing off. She had expected Bruce to corner Jason the very day Dick and Tim had, but that had been almost a week ago. She was _tired_.

She started coding the facial recognition, care be damned – and, of course, that’s when Batman showed up. He did so in the most polite way he knew about, too: by letting the security system pick up his presence before actually entering the room.

So he _did_ know the meaning of ‘personal space’. Barbara was impressed. Maybe he’d even waited this long specifically to give Jason’s time to breathe.

Yeah, right.

Batman found himself facing the barrel of a gun – two, to be exact. Barbara bit her lips not to grin. She knew there was a reason why she loved Jason so much. Then she remembered he was able to actually pull the trigger, and sighed.

She mostly hoped this wasn’t a bad day.

“Go away.”

“Jason…”

“ _Go away_ , Bruce.”

“You know I won’t.”

“I know you will leave of your own will or I’ll drag your body out of here.”

“You didn’t point guns at Dick.”

He had a good point, Barbara thought. It hit a nerve, too: for a second, she thought Jason was going to hit him with the handle. Which was probably what Bruce had aimed for. Such a movement would have made it possible for him to disarm Jason.

Jason controlled his temper, however.

“I’ll do better next time.”

She shuddered. It sounded more like a promise than a threat.

Bruce observed his lost son, his face blank under the cowl. Since he’d surprised Jason at his base, he wasn’t wearing his helmet. He looked oddly fragile like this. Because he was afraid, Barbara realized.

Alright, _now_ she felt guilty. It had to be done, though. She couldn’t stand the idea of Jason staying alone. Her knowing about him being alive wasn’t enough. The entire world knowing wasn’t enough, not if Jason didn’t realize what he meant to the people he knew.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here,” Bruce suddenly admitted.

For some reason, Jason tensed. Barbara frowned, her fingers flying on the keyboard because this had to mean something. The system scanned her files. The answer popped up in less than three seconds.

Shit. She should have known this. This place – the building – the very flat – had been Jason’s before. Because it had been his mother’s. This was where Jason had grown up, on Crime Alley.

It was emotionally charged so of course Jason had to roll his eyes.

“That’s kind of why I picked the place. I should have known better. You still have a thing for dramatic memories.”

Bruce pursed his lips, which Jason took as an encouragement. Of course.

“I mean, do you still come with flowers every year? Do you realize how _obvious_ it makes your identity? Granted, a lot of people die in Gotham every year, especially in Crime Alley, but, come on. This date? It’s almost a national mourning day. Someone is bound to notice.”

He was good, Barbara estimated. Hitting Bruce’s buttons was kind of easy, though, when one didn’t mind playing the dead parents card.

Jason yet had to realize that the dead son card was much, much worse.

“I didn’t come here for them today,” Bruce said.

“No, of course not, it’s not an anniversary. If they walked out of the grave, you’d probably be appalled. You do realize they’d be horrified at what you’d sacrificed for their sake, right?”

“I don’t do this for them. And they aren’t what I came to talk about.”

“Do I look like I care about what you have to say?” Jason mocked.

“You didn’t shoot me yet.”

Bruce’s concise answer made Jason tense all over again. The fragile shield of his taunts was easily shattered – and just that, a shield. It had always been, Babs realized, and of course Bruce knew as much. He had lived with Jason as a child after all.

“Stop it,” Jason snapped, waving his gun at him.

That was the opening Bruce had been waiting for. Yet – he didn’t move. He merely tilted his head, pointing out the mistake without acting on it. Jason paled, gritting his teeth. But he didn’t shoot.

Barbara breathed out. He _couldn’t_ shoot. Not at Bruce. Nor at Dick. Not even at Tim, despite what had happened with the explosion. He might have, when he’d first come back, but now that he’d talked to the child? He didn’t see him as his replacement anymore, but as part of the family. Or part of the Robin legacy, at least.

“Come back,” Bruce said.

“Go to _hell_.”

“Please.”

Jason smirked.

“Wow, I lived long enough to hear you beg at last! … Wait.”

Someone ought to tell him joking about his death wasn’t funny. Not to those who had outlived him, anyway. Maybe someday Barbara would feel secure enough about Jason’s safety to laugh about this – her sense of humor certainly was dark enough – but not yet.

Bruce just stared at him.

“What? I’m not going to take the request seriously because it’s not. Did you really think you could just burst in, ask nicely, and I’d hang my guns back on the wall and follow you? Are you _that_ self-centered?”

“I have to hope you might come back.”

The statement had meant to be firm, but Bruce’s voice broke on the last word. Barbara had to zoom in to see Jason wince, but he did.

“I note that doesn’t prevent you from making your rules a condition,” Jason pointed out.

“Those aren’t _my rules_. You’re killing people.”

“Buhu, the bad guys won’t come back to hurt anyone!”

“That’s not what we stand for.”

“That’s not what _you_ stand for, I’m well aware of _that!_ One would have thought the death of your partner would have been fucking enough for you to finally take measures! But no. _No_. Fuck you Bruce!”

Bruce straightened and, suddenly, it was Batman standing in front of Jason.

“You cannot ask me to bend my _one_ rule, even for your sake. I never pretended to be anything else than who I am…”

“ _You pretended to be my father!_ ” Jason yelled.

Batman disappeared, leaving only a mangled Bruce behind.

“I am.”

Jason lowered his hands at last. His shoulders were trembling. He was _crying_.

Barbara closed her video feed. They wouldn’t kill each other today; it was time for her to give them some privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're still enjoying this :)


	9. Chapter 9

Jason felt weird. There was no other way to put it. No words to define his emotions.

Alright, maybe there were words and he just wasn’t good enough with them. Or good enough at introspection. Which he took pride on. He really, really hated self-analysis. Perhaps that said a lot about himself.

Hadn’t he just said he didn’t want to _think?_

“You seem contemplative.”

Jason jumped. Robin tilted his head at him from the window.

“For God’s sake, kid, quit doing that or you’ll end up with a bullet between the eyes.”

“Your guns are on the table.”

“Not. The. Point.”

The kid slipped inside, at ease. Because of course he would be. Jason frowned at him.

“Make yourself at home,” he commented sarcastically.

“In this dump?” Robin said, raising his eyebrows. “No offense but I’ve got better.”

“Do you _want_ a bullet between the eyes?”

The brat grinned cockily. It was good to see he was able to be bold sometimes.

“Your guns still are on the table.”

Jason raised his hands.

“I give up. What do you want?”

Tim sat on the table, wrinkling his nose at the guns, his feet hanging over the edge.

“Some company? Batman isn’t exactly talkative.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Did the brat know anything about him at all?

“Then go check on Dickhead. I’m not the talkative one.”

“You’re kidding, right? You could never shut up!”

… Damn, the kid _did_ know him. Jason switched slightly in his seat. It felt so weird, coming from someone he barely knew himself. However, he wasn’t the boy he’d been anymore; he wasn’t _Robin_.

“It was part of the act.”

“It wasn’t an _act_!” the kid protested, removing his domino to look at him in the eyes.

He looked so _young_ like this. Because he _was_ young.

He also looked pissed. Jason blinked, realizing he had zapped the monologue the kid had been giving him.

“Sorry. How old are you again?”

“Fifteen. How is that relevant?”

Damn. He’d been _that_ young when… Well. Jason had never realized how much of a child 15-year-old still were. Not that he’d been as young as Tim was when he’d been the same age. Living on the streets made one old prematurely. But still.

“What now?” Tim grumbled.

“Aren’t you supposed to be grounded? The Joker is still at large.”

The brat glared.

“Please don’t start.”

Jason snorted.

“Kid. You have to learn not to say things like _please_ when you try to look threatening.”

Tim glared some more, slipping from the table to straighten up. His cape closed around him, his face cold, his eyes colder.

Then they started sparkling and the illusion was broken.

“You’re not someone I want to threaten. Trust me, if you ever are, you’ll be aware of it.”

Jason didn’t show he was impressed. He found the brat might be _too_ cocky, in the end.

The Joker, however, wasn’t a topic to be joked about – and wouldn’t that pain the man?

“You should be at the Cave. You can help Bruce from there.”

“I should be _at his side_ ,” Tim protested, putting back his mask. “Since he won’t let me, I’ll settle to the next best thing and bother you into being nice.”

“This isn’t a game, kid.”

All of a sudden, joy and laughter disappeared from Robin’s face. He became solemn like only dead people and teenagers could be.

“No, it’s not. Which is why I am here.”

Jason stared at him. Tim stared right back through the unblinking white of his lenses. Jason pursed his lips – then sighed.

“Give me the guns, I need to clean them.”

“You can take them yourself!” Robin protested, making a face.

In the end, he stayed the whole evening. At least, Jason knew he wasn’t in any danger from the Joker as long as he was there, so there was that. However, he knew he’d painted a target on his back by choosing _Red Hood_ as his name – it had been kind of the point – so he felt relieved when the kid finally left to get back home.

Except it meant he didn’t have his eyes on him anymore. Damnit.

Jason sighed. This was going to be an easy way out but… He grabbed his phone and dialed Oracle’s number.

“Is this a bird who realized he has apologies to make?” Babs answered, not using her usual voice filter.

“Hello, gorgeous. You know, usually, when someone betrays a secret, the betrayed one isn’t the one who’s supposed to apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I think my ears don’t work properly. Are you saying I wasn’t right to tell on you?”

Jason glared around because, at this point, it was pretty obvious she had installed cams in all his damn hideouts.

“It was my call to make,” he insisted.

“You obviously weren’t able to think straight. And don’t even try telling me otherwise.”

Jason breathed out, trying to focus on the reason why he’d called her. Right. The kid.

“There was no need to send me Robin, by the way,” he said. “I’m not B.”

“Since when do Robins need any encouragement to do this kind of thing?” Babs pointed out. “And you know that,” she added, because of course she wouldn’t be taking any of his shit.

“Alright, alright. Is he going back safely?”

“You’re so sweet.” She was smiling, he could tell. “And yes, he is. Almost at the Cave already.”

“How did he… Don’t tell me Bruce lets him _drive_.”

It would have been so unfair considering Jason had been totally able to do so and still forbidden to even touch the metaphorical keys of the Batmobile.

“He has a skateboard,” Babs answered.

Jason paused. Tried to picture it. Started laughing is ass off.

“A _skateboard?_ ”

“I _know_ ,” Babs said, her laugh mirroring is. “And he’s so glad he’s got wheels.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but that’s so… cute,” Jason admitted.

There was a pause of shared understanding. Jason was more or less certain Babs considered all Robins cute, which was both mortifying and – well, pixie boots. When he’d taken on the suit, he had never dreamed to adapt it, not even dared to mention he’d rather wear tights, no matter how well his naked legs looked like. So. Pixie.

But he had been second after Dick the Real Robin Grayson. Now, Robin had become a _title_. Not an easy one to bear, but… still. Jason was glad the new kid didn’t seem to have to fight the same battles as he did.

Admittedly, he had enough on his plate already. Coming after Jason the Dead Robin Todd couldn’t have been easy either.

“He’s there,” Babs declared.

Jason flinched, startled out of his thoughts. What had he just said about introspection? It didn’t do birds any good. One just had to look at Tim to know he practiced it too much.

“Thanks. See you?”

“See you,” she confirmed.

He hung up. There was still this weird feeling which had been bothering the whole day hanging around. A strange mix up of shame – _why_ would _he_ be ashamed? –, fear, and… relief?

There were no words. No words to define the emotion one felt when realizing his family didn’t reject him, but simply waited for him to come back home.

Nor for the awareness this didn’t change anything, because he had chosen his path and would stick to it, no matter what. Even if that meant giving up something he’d thought lost a long time ago.

#### ***

Barbara was entering the new books in the library’s system when an alarm made her phone vibe. She glanced at it and frowned. It was the Red Hood notification she had coded a few weeks earlier, to be warned quickly if Jason did anything else stupid like the Bowery massacre.

The last few days had been quiet, however. Jason hadn’t made up with Bruce, not exactly, but Bruce hadn’t tried to put him in jail and Jason hadn’t tried to kill him. He did continue to apply his very specific brand of morality, but less aggressively so than before. Babs had noted a change of pattern.

Specifically, Jason reorganized his schedule not to kill anyone whenever Tim was around. Since the current Robin was indubitably a genius and specifically good at discerning patterns, he had been coming over more and more often. Bruce pretended not to notice.

She finished scanning the book she was holding and grabbed her handbag. She slipped in an empty room where anything she might have to do would be – well, not unnoticed but less obvious than at the counter – and opened the laptop she carried around.

She paled while reading the tweets which had triggered her alarm. “ _Bank robbery at North point! #RedHood is there! Less cute than I thought._ ” Then “ _Shooting on Clinton! It’s #RedHood!_ ”. Then much, much more describing an escalating spiral of violence.

But… Bank robbery? Jason had stolen money, but always from mobsters, and the only bank on Clinton was Gotham Merchants which was mostly clean. Besides, even at his worst, he would never have attacked a public place, full of innocent bystanders. Never.

She closed her laptop, pursing her lips while heading to her boss’ office. She didn’t like to play the sick father card, but she definitively couldn’t stay at work in those circumstances.

Ten minutes later, she was in her car – and called Jason. He picked up almost immediately.

“You know I love and respect you,” he started. “But this is fucking ten in the morning. I hope you have a good reason for waking me up.”

“Red Hood is shooting people Uptown.”

She could almost hear him jump out of his bed.

“ _What?_ ”

“I’m on my way.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” he retorted. But, before she could protest, he elaborated. “I need your eyes. You can only accomplish that with your hands on the keyboard. Also please tell me Tim is at school and won’t get out of its gates. Nor even _hear_ about this.”

“I doubt he’s following the news,” she said hesitantly.

“ _Good_.”

She heard the sound of a magazine being plugged in – and realized what all this was about. It was _him_. It was _the Joker_.

“Don’t worry,” Jason assured her, his voice now slightly muffled by his helmet. “We’re going to get him. He isn’t slipping away this time.”

She had never driven so recklessly in her whole life. She burst in the house, jumping out of her skin when her dad called a hesitant “Babs?” from the living room.

He wheeled to the door, his puzzlement at seeing her there turning to worry when he saw her face.

“What happened?”

“I need to go to my room,” she told him.

“Barbara?”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” she whispered, before leaping up the stairs.

The Joker. _The Joker_. She felt the same old rage burning behind her eyes, beneath her skin, filling the cavity of her chest. He was her boogeyman, the one she couldn’t stand knowing to be alive. The one who had destroyed everything. Destroyed _hope_ , by putting down both Robin and her dad.

She sat down, turning on her screens and launching her software. There was also pain. That was new. She had always known what she’d do if ever confronted to the Joker. She wasn’t Bruce, nor a saint, and doubted anyone would blame her for pulling the trigger on _him_. Not even her dad. He had been a cop, he had fired at people, sometimes to kill, because it was simply too dangerous to stop them otherwise.

Batman had changed that. He had made himself an alternative to lethal force. If the cops didn’t manage to handle a threat, he would. Which meant that if the cops shot said threat before giving him a chance, they felt bad about it later on, because killing someone was difficult enough without having options.

Maybe becoming Oracle had been doing it wrong all over again, Babs thought. Maybe she should join the force. They sure needed real _permanent_ help, the kind her dad had been giving but couldn’t anymore, not from his chair. He could still be a moral example but they wouldn’t allow him back on the job.

Yet someone was needed, who wasn’t anyone’s puppet. Since her dad’s accident and consequent retirement, one commissioner had followed another, without anyone settling in. This was bad for the GCPD, bad for Gotham.

Babs took a deep breath. Thinking about this was fine, but right now, she had work to do. A damned clown to find. A friend to help.

Fuck this all, she didn’t even know anymore if she wanted the Joker dead or not. The rage was _right there_ , ready to explode.

Yet… Yet she felt sick at the idea of sending _Jason_ after him. She had been fine with sending _the Red Hood_ , this anonymous, insane vigilante. But the second Robin? Robin should never kill. And even more, this was _Jason_. Jason deserved better than being a murderer. He was warm and nice and _broken_ and she just wanted to help him piece himself back together, to help him _be himself_ …

But this was the _Joker_.

She stared at her screens, her hands ready yet unmoving above the keyboard. Frozen. What should she do? What was the right decision?

Her door creaked open.

“Don’t hope even for a second that I’m leaving you alone,” her dad warned her.

Her screens had automatically turned black when he entered, startling her as much as hearing his voice. She slowly turned her desk chair as he wheeled to her.

“Dad, I really do have work to do.”

“I know.”

He had never admitted he knew about her nightly activities, but – she wasn’t surprised when he talked like that. He knew her better than anyone, knew she wasn’t one to step down and let others do the dirty job.

Her hands were trembling. She couldn’t look at him in the face.

“Barbara.”

She closed her eyes.

After two entire minutes, she had to open them, because she knew he was still looking at her. And indeed he was, waiting patiently for her to decide she was ready to talk.

“This isn’t a good day,” she admitted.

“I would never have guessed.”

Despite everything, the joke managed to get a smile out of her. He took her hand.

“You look like someone who had a hard decision to make.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “And afraid to choose the wrong path.”

She glanced at him and was surprised to find him smiling. He squeezed her hands then wheeled back to her door.

“Wait!” she called him. “Aren’t you going to give some meaningful piece of advice or anything?”

“No need,” he assured her. “You might doubt. I know how I raised you. You will make the right decision.”

He cast her one last smile and closed the door behind him, leaving her gaping at her empty room.

Then she straightened, turning back to her screens, because she had shit to work on and – yes. There’d always been only one path.

#### ***

Jason had taken down four Red Hoods by midday, and he was starting to get pissed. He had managed not to cross path with Batman until now but it wouldn’t be long before Bruce finally caught up with him, despise his aversion for daytime activities. Jason had however won some time by letting him handle the three Red Hoods who had been smart enough to team up. One of them was a sniper, which made it hard even for Batman to get close to the perimeter where the other two were holding a few hostages.

As far as Jason knew, none of those copycats had had an actual plan. They’d been dosed and let loose on the street, which was as much a signature as the use of his name and trademark hood. Though theirs were made of simple wool.

Red-dyed wool which came from a gothamite firm in the Industrial District. It had been produced for last December’s holidays then sold with a knitting set for old and younger ladies to make their very own socks to hang over the fireplace. The operation, organized by Wayne Enterprises, had been a success. All benefits had of course been used by the Martha Wayne Foundation to buy orphans gifts.

Babs had sent him the list of donators: they had all been invited to give their email address for a tombola. The winners had received various gifts, all Christmas-related.

It would have been too good not to have a villain use this. Yet sometimes one hoped.

There were hundreds of names and the Joker wasn’t Nigma. His patterns were too chaotic to be distinguishable with an algorithm. Which meant Jason had been playing with the list for more than an hour, with Babs on the line.

No more Red Hood had appeared. Bruce would soon have taken down the remaining three.

“We are missing something,” Jason swore.

“It was obvious the first five times. Could you please move on?”

Jason took her advice literally, getting up from his chair to pace. In addition to the list, he had printed the pictures of the four Red Hoods he’d taken care off, along with what little information Babs had managed to dig out. There wasn’t much. They’d been normal people living in a crazy city.

They still _were_. Knowing the Joker was probably behind this, Jason had avoided killing any of them – rightly so, considering they possibly had no conscience of what they were doing. The three left to Bruce might be the exception, considering they’d been organized enough to work together.

“Who the hell is called Balthazar nowadays, anyway,” he grumbled, glaring at the pictures.

Then he froze. Balthazar. This actually _was_ familiar, but where did he… He sat back down so hard he almost knocked the chair over, grabbing the list to read it once more. There were one, two, three… _four_ Balthazar. _Four_. In 2015. This wasn’t a coincidence.

He circled those in red while starting to look for _Modestys_ , the one Red Hood who had been a she.

“Babs, I need an ID on the ones B. is handling.”

“I know I got you used to miracles but I’m not an actual magician, you know? They’re still wearing their hoods. Oh, my mistake. Two of them are.”

Jason cursed. This meant Bruce had taken down the sniper.

“I need their _names_.”

There was only one Modesty, but three Christmas – _seriously?­ –_ and three Nowell. Someone had had fun choosing his aliases.

Then his eye found a Jesus. He pinched his nose and kept reading. Only one Jesus. But there were three Shepherd. And a fucking _Merry_.

He started at their names, looking for a pattern – the Joker wasn’t Nigma, the code wouldn’t be so difficult to break now. And here it was: the first letter of each Surname, in chronological order, formed…

“Long live the king?” Jason frowned.

That wasn’t it. It should have pointed to a place. This didn’t. Hell, it had to point to a _dozen_ at least. Burger King? No – there were too many of those and it wasn’t specific to Gotham. But still. Just out of his head, he knew there were at least five shops called crowned-something in Diamond district. In Tri-corner there was a bar called the _King’s duck_. Maybe the reference to a bird was significant?

Jason felt his bones chill. Then, of course, there was the Monarch Theater. An abandoned place close to Crime Alley. You could hardly make more significant than _that_.

No. _No_. The Joker didn’t know about this – or, if he did, he never, _ever_ touched Batman’s real identity. He’d never cared about whoever was under that mask. Only about the mask itself. Hell, if he’d been able to, Jason was sure the clown would have nailed it to Bruce’s face.

Let’s hope he’d never thought about that one himself.

“Babs. Please run a search on king, crown, monarch key words in Gotham.”

“Well there is…”

“No. Other than that. Something linked to the Joker. This is all about him, about reminding Batman and everyone that _he_ is the Red Hood – and the true Prince of crime. This is why he used _king_ as a keyword.”

“Sending you the results now, but there are more than forty. Eighty-six when I also include Emperor, Sultan, Cesar and Majesty.”

Jason printed it down. He wasn’t bad with a computer – even by Bats standards, though Tim seemed to have raised the bar to a higher level – but he always preferred to handle paper he could actually touch when he was brainstorming.

“Jason.”

Something in Babs’ tone sounded tense. That instantly put Jason on alert.

“What is it? He’s done with the last two?”

“Almost, but… listen. Maybe we should let him handle this.”

Jason froze. He counted to ten, twice, to make sure the red veil that had blinded his vision receded.

“You’re joking,” he stated, his voice flat.

“No, I’m not. This is too emotional for both of us. Perhaps…”

“Perhaps _nothing_ ,” Jason interrupted. “He’s had _years_ to handle the clown. He _didn’t_.”

“He put him back in Arkham each time.”

“That sure helped your dad a lot, didn’t it?” Jason barked.

He heard her take a deep breath.

“My father would have gladly sacrificed his legs for the Batman _not to_ kill someone.”

Jason’s hands hurt. He was clenching his fists too hard. He forced them open.

Then the thigh line of calm he’d managed to maintain snapped.

“He killed me. He. Fucking. _Killed me!_ And that wasn’t enough. I don’t care about Bruce’s fucking rules and his fucking mission – the Joker killed me and… and _nothing!_ He killed me and nothing. Fucking. Happened. I _died_. That’s all. Nothing significant.”

“Jason…”

“No, shut the hell up! I don’t want to hear you telling me how sad everyone was after I died. I was dead and the Joker was alive. _And he did nothing_. Nothing.” His voice getting quieter at last, his breath calming down as he remembered exactly why he was there, why he’d come back to Gotham. “I thought I was Batman’s partner. I thought Bruce was my… But no, I was nothing.”

“It’s not true!”

“I’m not going to be mad at him for carrying on. Taking another Robin. Tim is great. And Bruce, only human.”

“Jason, don’t!”

He took his guns. They were already loaded.

“I’m going to take care of this myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't hope this would keep going well, did you?


	10. Chapter 10

Barbara was panicking. Her brain informed her of that fact, which did nothing to calm her down. Jason had left his flat, leaving both his com link and all the bugs she’d managed to hide on his suit – apparently not so well – behind. Even the gun and other equipment he had taken along were clean. And she had no idea where he was going. Eighty-six possibilities and only the one of her.

She already had her hands in her wardrobe to pick up the suit she’d sworn never to put on again when the idea of contacting Bruce came to her. She had to be out of her mind. Bruce? As if he of all people would solve any of this mess!

Yet she had to face the hard truth: she couldn’t do this alone. She doubted the suit even fit her still.

She closed her wardrobe and walked back to her desk. She didn’t remember last time she’d voluntarily called Bruce. Apparently, it had been long enough for him to take her call seriously.

“What happened?” he asked right away.

“Jason knows where he is. I think. He had a list of places and a good instinct.”

“You _gave him a list?_ ”

“I tried to convince him not to go…”

“I’ll take care of it. Send me the list. And don’t get out!”

She bit her lip, hard, not to start shouting at him. Jason was in danger. _Jason_ was _in danger_. She was very proud to manage a composed tone when she answered:

“Fuck yourself, Batman. I’m sending you the list and you’re keeping me updated.”

“Deal.”

He agreeing so quickly reminded her of the emergency of the situation. She provided him with the list, along with a quick summary on how they’d gotten there. He didn’t make any caustic comment during her explanation which meant he couldn’t find any fault in their logic.

Which meant Jason was probably heading for the Joker’s hideout, right now. _Fuck_. She couldn’t, she just _couldn’t_ let him do this. He felt the need to kill people _fine_ , it was wrong and against the law and against Bruce’s rules, but fine. But going after the Joker? She felt, in her gut, that this would just break something, that this would be the point of no return. She. Couldn’t. Let him.

And if he was hurt…

The panic came back in a wave, invading her thoughts so thoroughly she couldn’t form any coherent thought for a second, unable to speak or even move. Jason couldn’t face the Joker; he couldn’t die, not again, she couldn’t lose him!

 _Oh_.

Talk about a slap in the face. The positive side effect of that realization was to bring her back to herself. She was in her room again, with her computer in front of her and Bruce not-talking in the com. She managed to suck a breath in.

All was fine. Bruce was there. Hell, _she_ was, and she kicked ass. And Jason was a big boy, strong, smart, not as easy to kill as he’d been at 15. No one would lose anyone.

Besides, he wasn’t hers to start with.

Yet… ‘ _Hello gorgeous_ ’, he said to her all the time.

No. He flirted with everyone! Well, not since he’d come back, but he’d always been flirty and it never meant anyth…

The roar of the Batmobile engine echoed in the com. _Damn_. She was supposed to be better than that! How long had she been distracted by her worries?

“Did you find something?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She waited. She _didn’t_ punch the screen, which she counted as an accomplishment.

“What did you find, Bruce?”

“There’s a playing card factory right next to Ace Chemicals. It’s called…”

“Monarch playing Card co.,” Barbara whispered, paling. “I’m coming. And _don’t_ tell me I’d better stay in my room.”

“Call Nightwing,” he asked. “Tell him to keep an eye on Robin.”

It was an easy way to keep him out of harm’s way, considering the Joker didn’t seem to go after their little bird this time. Still, she had to agree with Bruce’s reasoning: they didn’t need more of them around while they _definitively_ needed to be certain that Tim was alright.

“I’ll do that.”

It was the matter of ten solid minutes, because Dick could see through Bruce’s ploy like through colored glass – that’s to say, mostly well, despite a bias.

“He needs me on the field! Why am I even arguing with you?” the first Robin cursed.

“Because you know I know better,” Barbara answered, finishing to prepare herself by clipping her utility belt around her waist. Damn. The thing had gotten smaller. Totally.

“You’re biased!”

She rolled her eyes.

“Because obviously you’re the most objective guy concerning Bruce. Or Jason, for that matter.”

“I have a PhD in Bruce’s handling, which is something only one other person can claim, and it’s Clark. _You_ , on the other hand, had kept Jason being alive from us for weeks.”

“I didn’t hear you tell anyone else after you heard the truth,” she pointed out, before putting an end to the conversation. “Do whatever you want. I don’t have any more time to waste.”

She slipped out of the window. It had been two years, now, yet, clothing trouble aside, it felt like she’d never stopped. She had kept herself in shape. Still, she hadn’t expected this to feel so easy, like slipping back in an old sweater found at the bottom of a closet. It was comfortable.

Which wasn’t to say it felt _right_ , though. This was a one-time come back. It wasn’t a decision she made consciously, she just knew – she had to be in the field and couldn’t go as a civilian, but she wouldn’t go back to Batgirl.

How _that_ would reconcile what her brain had just casually pointed out about her feelings for Jason – well, that was another story.

She fired her grapple. This was a challenge for another day.

#### ***

Jason had only had to glance at the list to known which place the Joker would use as his hideout. The man might not be predictable, but he always went for the theatrics when he could. And after all, his point had been to lure Batman there all along – so the place couldn’t be _too_ hard to find.

It certainly was trapped. Not that Jason cared: he well intended to measure up to anything the Joker would throw at him this time.

He didn’t get in from the front door, of course. He started up by taking a look around, finishing by the roof. He hadn’t Babs as backup this time and was very aware she would likely help Bruce finding the spot by now, so he had little time. There were however steps one couldn’t avoid if one wanted to stay alive.

Such as ‘not going after the Joker’, admittedly, Jason thought when he found a black hat stuck on a metallic pike at the very top of the building. What the hell was the clown up to?

Entering by the front door wouldn’t help, so he still broke in through one of the windows. He avoided the one where a red sheet was hanging. Not that it would help; there were no good answers to the Joker’s jokes. It was always on you.

Music echoed in the corridors inside, too faint for him to make out the lyrics or even recognize the rhythm. Jason stuck to the ceilings, because it was Batman’s more likely route hence the one that would be the less trapped. The Joker wanted to challenge him – but he also wanted him to reach his main scene, otherwise, what would be the fun?

The music kept going, probably running on repeat. The rhythm accelerated at the end of the intro and finally Jason recognized it – _King of Pain_ , from the Police. Still in theme, then. Oh, he got it – _a black hat caught in a high tree top_ , right? He illustrated the lyrics. Joy.

As Jason got closer, his ears got another sound. Water. Like in, a lot of. Somehow, the Joker managed to make him even more aggravated than he was angry.

His eyes caught a reflection on a metallic wire right in time for him not to trigger the mechanism. There were dozens of them, though, all around the place he was in, leaving only one way forward. Was he supposed to be the ‘butterfly trapped in a spider’s web’?

Well, fuck him.

Slowly, carefully, Jason tied a string to the wire and retreated back to the window, ready to jump if the detonation was bigger than anticipated. Then he pulled.

Instead of a blast, he heard a soft _snap!_ He didn’t have much time left now: not only Batman was going to arrive soon but he’d just warned the Joker that someone had stepped in his little game.

He avoided the next trap, and barely dodged in time the one after that. The spears aiming at eye level _might_ have been stopped by his helmet but he didn’t like to take chances.

Then he finally arrived in the main room. How the Joker had managed to create a fucking waterfall inside a building, he didn’t want to know. Considering how nostalgic this game felt, there were good chances he’d actually redirected Gotham’s water system directly in the factory – which was slowly but surely filling with water.

Damn. He should have checked the door just in case. They had to be sealed shut for the water to be retained so well inside the building.

The Joker was standing on a purple painted stage in the middle of it all, right next to the waterfall. A throne had been prepared on it. Ready with restrains for arms and legs and barbed wire.

“Batsy, Batsy!” he singsonged. “I know you’re there, hiding somewhere!”

He thought he’d caught a bat. This was so _cute_.

“I’m so very sorry for the poor welcome,” the madman kept going, waving at something hanging in the middle of the water, too blurry for anything but a small shape to be discernible. “I know, it’s an actual salmon. I couldn’t get Shark out of Arkham. He flat out refused to follow. I think he doesn’t like me.”

From where he was, Jason was able to aim at the clown’s head. He’d be dead in a second.

Not satisfying enough, though. No. Some forms were to be respected. At least, the Joker had to know who was there.

Jason still fired, as introduction, missing the fool’s head by an inch. The Joker straightened, losing his smile at once – and, yeah, _that_ was satisfying.

“You’re not the Bat!” he squealed.

“Someone give a cookie to the king of obviousness.”

The Joker made an annoyed face.

“Oh, you’re him. I like to be a source of inspiration but I feel cheated. A villain considering me as an example should at least be imaginative enough to find himself an original name.”

“Who ever said _you_ inspired me?” Jason asked, firing two more shots from a few feet to the left, moving around not to let the Joker pinpoint his position.

“Well, obviously…”

“Ah-ha! Apparently, you’re not even the king of that. It’s never been about you, Joker. Someone else has been chosen as protagonist. You’re only bothering us.”

The Joker’s face twisted in rage. He started firing his own gun all around, wasting bullets and energy, as Jason let his laugh echo in the ceiling. He still used _some_ of his old Robin’s tricks.

“Get down you coward!” the clown shrieked. “Or shall I get up?”

It was time to raise the stakes. Jason removed his helmet – and threw it to the Joker, aiming at his head. The clown dodged easily, catching it with his foot before it rolled over the edge of the platform he was standing on. He had made his stage intelligently; it was floating on the raising water.

The Joker frowned at the helmet.

“Mine was much more…”

Jason activated the detonation. Fragment of purple wood flew in all directions, a literal wave pushing against the walls. The Joker disappeared from view.

Which never was a good thing, ever after such a blow. Jason stayed on guard.

A white hand grabbed the beam he was standing on. Jason aimed his guns, waiting for the Joker to emerge. So he did – and the leg which had been closer to the helmet was in tatter, horribly so.

Jason smirked.

“Oooh, this _smile_ … I _know_ you!” the Joker realized, no pain distinguishable in his voice or general behavior. Then his eyes widened. “You’re the one I killed!” Then he laughed. “The useless one.”

As if Jason would fall for such a blatant provocation. In the past, he might have. Would have. But not anymore. Who cared what the clown ranted about? The only important thing was to put him down so he wouldn’t kill or cripple anyone else.

Then the Joker opened his arms wide, cackling.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Isn’t this why you came all the way back to the grave?”

“Once again, not the protagonist, Jack.”

“Yet it looks like I am! Look at you, all ready to pull the trigger. I’m so _proud_.”

Jason gritted his teeth, yet didn’t shot. Something was off. Not the clown’s ranting – once again, who cared? – but… his satisfaction seemed genuine. He looked glad, jubilant even.

“I’ve created you,” the Joker kept going. “Made you anew, better than before! You’re kind of our kid, mine and the Bat’s. Do I get to be the mom?” He giggled some more.

He wasn’t coming closer. He stood there, an easy target, making himself more and more irritating.

He _wanted_ Jason to shot him. Wanted to be killed.

Wanted to be found by Batman later on, for him to realize his son had killed his nemesis. Something that would never be undone, never forgotten.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

This was the Joker’s whole point. He lived to taint people around him, to twist them at his image. How many times hadn’t Jason heard him tease Batman into doing something unforgivable? And now he was doing the same with him. He wanted to push them over the edge.

If they listened to him, they’d lose the game. Not that it was a game – contrarily to what Bruce might think, Jason was very aware of that.

If Jason did his bidding, he’d become like him.

And if Bruce had, when the Joker had provoked him by killing his own child, he would have been the one becoming a monster.

Jason shuddered. Then he lowered his guns.

And punched the Joker in the face.

#### ***

When Barbara arrived at the scene, everything was done. She found Bruce at the top of the building, staring at what she first thought to be a corpse tied to a metallic pike at the top of the building, a black hat on its head. But no – the Joker was breathing. He was alive.

The wave of relief hit her so hard she felt her knees give way for half a second. She pulled herself together quickly enough. With some luck, Bruce hadn’t noticed.

“Are you alright?”

Damn him.

“Fine,” she snapped. “When did you arrive? Did you see anything?”

“No.”

This, this was why she hated working with him. She stared at him pointedly. He ignored her. She counted to forty-seven, backwards, then put a hand on his shoulder. That caught him by surprise. _Good_.

“He didn’t kill him.”

“He didn’t,” Bruce confirmed, solemn.

She smiled. After a second of hesitation, so did he.

Situation defused. Now, it was time for her to head back, because right now she wasn’t at the place she should be. She glanced at the unconscious form of the Joker. Pity. She wished she’d had the opportunity to punch him in the face at least once in her last day as Batgirl. He looked pretty battered already, though, his face barely recognizable among the contusions and the cuts. Jason had done a good job of it.

“I’ll let you handle this,” she said, “and warn Nightwing the alert has been cleared.”

“He should stay with Robin a bit longer. Just in case.”

This time, he sounded like a worrying dad. He had to be exhausted for emotion to be so obvious in his voice. Maybe she’d been a bit too hard on him lately.

She turned, ready to go, when he stopped her.

“Please take care of him.”

She blinked, then blushed, then cursed herself because, damn, not in front of Batman! He gave her some time to compose herself.

“I will.”

He nodded. She climbed down the building, wishing she still had the bike she’d used back in the times. Red Hood’s current hideout was not exactly next door and her arms were starting to hurt from grappling. She was a bit out of shape, in the end.

She didn’t intend to make the whole trip for nothing, so she activated her com link.

“Red? You there?”

“Hello, gorgeous.” His voice was rougher than usual. It had been a hard day for everyone. “Didn’t you find my wrapped gift?”

“I did. B. is taking care of it.”

“Yeah, good.”

Maybe this wasn’t a good time. Maybe she should head back home instead. It _had_ been a difficult day. Jason’s triggers had certainly been pulled on. He needed quiet, time to rest, to go back to himself.

She needed to see him.

“Where are you?”

“Don’t you have eyes on me?” he asked. “Wait. I’m hearing wind. You’re not at your desk. Don’t tell me…”

“You worried me sick, you idiot! Where _are_ you?”

“Went back to the safe house. Do you want me to meet you half way?”

“Did you just call me a damsel in distress?”

He laughed, a bit tiredly, but still. Perhaps he was getting over it. God, please, make it that he was getting over all this.

“I would never dare,” he said.

The rest of the journey felt like nothing at all. It still took her half an hour to reach his place. He had deactivated the security, allowing her to slip in through the opened window. When he saw her, he froze. Then _blushed_.

She couldn’t help but to grin. Apparently, she still wore the suit well.

“I didn’t expect,” he started, before clearing his throat, “I mean. Hi, Batgirl.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, this was a one-time thing. Someone was in big trouble and I didn’t want to come around in civilian clothes.”

He shamelessly stared at her legs, then waist, then quickly back to her face before she could scold him. She still frowned. He cast her his most seductive grin which was – seductive alright. That jaw, damnit.

“Close your mouth, you’re drooling,” she commented. “And if you ever look at me like that again, well, I hope you aren’t too attached to that nose?”

“Why, wanna bite it off?”

She glared.

“If you keep going I just might, birdboy.”

He grinned again, this time casually handsome. She cursed internally. This was _unfair_. But she wasn’t one to avoid challenges. She raised her eyebrow.

“So. How are you feeling?”

He breathed out, nervousness bubbling up on the surface of his control.

“Weird.”

She rolled her eyes. Batboys.

“Define ‘weird’.”

“You were right, okay?” He said, starting to pace. “It wouldn’t have helped to end him. So I didn’t. Aren’t you happy?”

“Yes. I am,” she whispered.

He looked back at her, deflating. He seemed lost again, without his anger, all his self-assurance gone. He had been a man on a mission – and now he realized it had been a dead end.

“This doesn’t mean it’s true for all of them, you know,” he tried, his jaw set. “Some of them deserve to die.”

“More than the Joker does?”

He closed his eyes, painfully.

“No one deserves it more than he does.”

She nodded. Then, out of the blue, declared:

“I’m going to become a cop.”

His eyes opened wide.

“What?”

“You made me realize something.” She smiled. “Twice, I guess. I stopped being Batgirl also because of what happened to you, you know? Not just because of my father. And now, I think even Oracle isn’t enough. We need people on the side of the law as well.”

“’Helping one specific person’. Is that it?”

She shrugged.

“Not just that. We need structural change, and that cannot happen if we all stuck to the shadows. How much being adopted by Bruce changed your life, Jason? And I don’t mean because he was Batman.”

His lips twitched, forming a bitter smirk.

“You know what I mean,” she pushed. “The Martha Wayne Foundation gets kids out of the streets every year. Helps them to get over their issues. Finds them real homes.”

“I know. They do a great job,” he admitted.

“A crucial one.”

He shook his head. She crossed the few feet between them to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Just think about it. And it doesn’t mean you have to stop being the Red Hood.”

“The Red Hood works for the mob and runs his own side of things,” Jason protested. “A guy like that has nothing to do around kids.”

“Well then maybe it’s time to stop being anything else but the Red Hood then. That you start being Jason again.”

He looked away. She squeezed his shoulder. His eyes came back to hers. They were greener than before, she noted scientifically. She would have to update his file.

He wasn’t turning away. She suddenly became very aware of his body next to hers. He looked transfixed, maybe hoping for this to be real, hoping for something to drag him away from the mission, hoping for _life_. She put her other hand on his arm – and stopped him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t do that on the first date.”

He flinched, trying to step away. She didn’t let him. She smiled.

“But second date can be tomorrow. If you’re interested.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” he gasped, staring at her.

She waited. Waited some more. Then nudged at him.

“Am I supposed to take that as a yes, birdboy? If so, you’ll have to learn how to say nice words to your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he squealed.

She crossed her arms, staring. He swallowed.

“Girlfriend. Christ.”

“You’re not accepting only not to contradict me, are you?” she joked.

“Of course not!”

“Nor to annoy Dick?”

He paused thoughtfully. She slapped his arm. He smiled.

“Not even for that. Though it’s a good argument in favor.”

“Moron.”

“If you didn’t love dicks, you wouldn’t be around.”

She whacked him.

“No. Dick. Jokes. That’s a rule. I’ll add more as we go.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She turned away, heading back to the window. Both of them had had much than enough emotions for the day. She felt like she would burst from joy or start shaking with worry any minute now. Better get some air.

She still tilted her head at him while striding over the window border.

“And yes. Of course I do love you. Moron.”

She had left for almost two minutes when she heard his answer in the com’.

“Yeah… me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, that was the last chapter! Just the epilogue left.  
> I hope you enjoyed the story! It turned out more Jason-centric and less of a romance than I first intended, but well, I still like the feeling of it :)  
> I hope Jason's evolution in this last chapter is believable. I feel strongly that he does care about his family (despite all his problems with Bruce), but that, exactly like Bruce, for him the mission comes first. And his mission involves killing people because he thinks that's how things will work. He wouldn't abandon his mission for the sake of his family - so he had to have a reason to change his mind about killing.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading! XD


	11. Epilogue: The First Step of Many

Jason stood, glaring at this reflection in the mirror. He was wearing a blue jean and a white t-shirt with the logo of a band he’d never heard of. ‘You need daytime clothes and I think you’ll like them’, Babs had said when handing him the piece of clothing. ‘If you don’t, you can still give it to the Foundation.’

It felt weird wearing it. He never put it on for his ‘night activities’, which meant he’d never put it on at all, except that one time he’d finally found the guts to walk himself to the Foundation. He’d intended to ask about the requirement to become a volunteer. He’d stopped at the entrance, stood there for twenty minutes, then headed back home. He hadn’t managed to force himself to go back, yet, but he’d try again the next week.

He shook his head, his hand nervously running through his hair. The mirror itself was weird. He didn’t remember last time there had been one in the flat, except in the bathroom. This one was full-height, enough so for even Jason to see himself reflected from head to toes. Babs and he had found it at a flea market when he’d started to go mock with her on Sundays, so he could buy _some_ furniture now that he was kind of settling in one place. Babs called it nesting, of course.

He kind of liked that.

The flat looked more like a home than it had when Jason had been ten. And that was counting the weapons hanging on the walls.

“Are you ready?” Babs asked from the other room.

“How could I ever be?” Jason grumbled, but he joined her.

She grinned at him, and he took a second to wonder on the fact she’d decided to become his girlfriend. She’d always been so much out of his league he’d never imagine even for a second that his flirting would go anywhere. He still flirted, because she was strong and gorgeous and – well, Babs.

“Come on, don’t make such a face. It’s not like you didn’t know my dad already.”

His face grew longer.

“Who would be eager to have his girlfriend’s dad remembering him in scaled panties?”

“You had lovely legs.”

He glared. She laughed.

“Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

She grabbed her coat and he his jacket. They weren’t taking the bike because she didn’t like to ride in heels. He avoided pointing out that driving a car with those wasn’t much better – she would be his only ally for the evening, he’d rather not get on her nerves.

Jim Gordon didn’t live in the Bowery but Uptown, in West Village. It was a longer drive that Jason would have liked. He felt his nervousness grow stronger every minute, which pissed him off. He was the Red Hood, who some called the Scourge of the Underworld; he had fucked up Maroni and Black Mask, sending so much evidence to the GCPD they’d gotten locked up for several lives.

Maybe he was quite right to be terrified by Jim Gordon, after all.

“Here we are!” Babs declared, parking the car in front of the house.

In the end, the journey had been way too short. Jason dragged himself out of the car, following her to the front door. She frowned at him.

“You know you don’t _have_ to do this, right? If you’re feeling so uncomfortable, we can just drive back. Dad would understand.”

“No – it’s fine. This visit is long overdue anyway.”

He rang the doorbell. When the door opened, he felt his breath catch. Seeing Jim Gordon in a wheelchair was more of a shock than he’d anticipated.

Thankfully, the man didn’t seem to realize. He looked very pale himself.

“Damn you, boy,” Jim said. “Come here.”

Jason hesitated only second before coming closer. The ex-commissioner grabbed him down, pulling him to his height to hug him fiercely. Surprise and shame hit Jason like a brick, and he could only hug back. Because the damn man had always been there, since the very beginning, a fixed, protecting place among Gotham’s many dangers, and damn, this visit _really_ had been long overdue.

Then of course, Jim whacked his head.

“That’s for not having visited sooner, young man. One doesn’t just come back to life and not say anything!”

“Sorry, sir,” Jason blushed. Damnit. Why was he blushing now? He didn’t do blushes!

Jim seemed very amused.

“I didn’t think your cheeks _could_ color that way.”

“Neither did I,” Jason admitted, making him laugh.

“Come on in,” Jim invited them, wheeling back inside.

The house felt warm and cozy. Admittedly, Jason didn’t have much experience with average houses. There was a whole world between his own flat and the manor. He liked this more. There even was a garden.

Jim patted his arm, eyes sparkling.

“Well, boy. Welcome in the family.”

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was the epilogue :) I hadn't planned on writing one but I had this scene stuck in my head, so.  
> It turned out a bit more sugary than I expected. I totally blame Jim on that.  
> Anyway, I hope you liked the fic :) Thank you for reading!


End file.
